Jack Sparrow UNEDITED
by MySignalFire
Summary: The story about the pirate who became a legend, Jack Sparrow...Sit back, read, review, and enjoy! Rating may go up.
1. The Tempest

**Author's Note:** _I wanted to write something that would show Jack Sparrow's entire life up to, and beyond, the stories that we now know. Having done loads of research on Captain Jack Sparrow, and Pirates of the Caribbean on the whole, I am an accomplished Pirates of the Caribbean human-encyclopaedia. This story may be written as fiction, for some of the aspects have been created when there was no fact to back it up. It is as close to the "real" biography of Captain Jack Sparrow as woven by Johnny Depp, Pirates of the Caribbean, Ted and Terry (screenplay), and Disney. So, sit back, read, review and enjoy!_

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**Chapter One**

The Tempest

"John –" The beautiful woman screamed in pain. John held the small of her back and pushed his fingers, through her sari, to a pressure point. The woman relaxed and held her full womb. "The baby –"

"Meenakshi," said John, his dreadlocks swinging fully, "the child's delivery will be normal. I assure you. He is, after all…_my_ son."

"And mine," she said, coughing.

"I'm proud of you. You learned English quickly," said John, attempting to take her mind off of the baby.

"For you," she said. Meena clutched her sari tresses and petticoat and climbed aboard the ship, John holding her back. She finally reached the main deck and screamed in pain.

"Teague, sir!" A skinny Indian man addressed John with high respect – respect John earned through fear. "Captain!"

"Yes," John said, looking painfully at Meenakshi, who was leaning her back against the hull.

"We were wondering if there was another place to keep the woman. It's bad luck to have one on board, sir, we could get –"

"I don't care about ye superstitious lot," said Teague, addressing the entire crew. "If any o' ye be superstitious, you best leave. _Now_." He turned to the skinny man, whose name was Raja, and said, "This woman is as close as a wife to me. You treat her with the same respect you would treat me."

"Yes, Captain," Raja said quietly, his beady eyes scanning the woman with an air of disgust. "Stupid wench," he said under his breath.

"Put her in my quarters – and gently," said Johnathon Teague. "She is in condition."

"Avala roomila podu," said Raja to two of the men, who immediately reached out and escorted Meenakshi into the Captain's Quarters.

"Is the ship boarded?"

"Yes, sir," said Raja. "The entire crew is on board. As is the woman."

Teague gave Raja a look of disgust. "Why on earth did I appoint _you_ first mate?" He said to himself.

"Full sail! We raid the bountiful seas of India!"

"You heard the man, raise the sails!"

A man came out of the Captain's Quarters. "Cap'n?"

"Aye," said Teague, his hands moving the helm with an air of pride.

"That Meena lady, sir, she's screaming like it's Hell on Earth! I fink she's…you know…"

"Did the baby come out?"

"Kinda. It's head – it's stickin' out, sir. Didn' know wha' to do."

"Move!" Teague pushed through the men and into the Captain's Quarters. There was blood and vomit all over the chairs.

"Captain Teague," said Raja, "The main rigging has come off! And a piece of the hull fell in the sea. It's a hurricane, captain, a Typhoon!"

"Blast! Get the doctor."

"Doc Marks? He's nothin' but a fool! Won' do no good, sir," said a short man named Byron.

"I don't care. Meenakshi is giving birth, so GET THE DAMN DOCTOR!"

"Aye, Cap'n!"

Byron hurried out to fetch Marks while Teague followed Raja. When he reached the outside decks, the spray of the sea was in such high quantities that he could not see past Raja's head. He looked up and was able to make out that the sail was untied and almost flying off.

"I'll go up," said Teague. "Make sure that Meena is all right."

Teague climbed up and reached for the rope what was thick as his arm. "Damn rigging," he said, struggling to tie it around the mast. The long pole Teague used to hold the rope snapped. "Argh!"

--

Meena lay, unable to see clearly. Everything was fuzzy and unclear. She could make out a faint outline of a man with blond hair. She could see his electrifying blue eyes.

"She's conscious, sir," said the man. "And she's sewn up."

"Good work, Marks," said Teague, who leaned down and gave Meena some water. She coughed hard.

"Is the baby out?" Meena asked, struggling to breathe.

"Yes," said Teague. "It's a boy."

"A boy!" Meena whispered in joy. "Can I hold my child?"

"Of course," said Teague, handing the bloody mess to Meena. Her soft fingers held him tight.

"I want to name him after you," said Meena. "He is your spitting image. He will be a handsome man, I know it."

"Mm," said Teague. "But I don't fancy Teague as a last name."

"Johnathon…Johnathon what?"

"I'm not sure," said Teague. "Jackie," he looked fondly at the baby. "Jack… I'll be back, my boy."

Teague left the room and walked above deck to steer the ship to the port. "No more sailing for a week," he told Raja. "It's best we get this fix repaired by…wot's his face."

"Balthazar, sir," said Raja.

"Aye, that ol' cack-filled hull-man," said Teague. "The idiot always charges extra. I'll show 'im."

A bird flew across the setting sun in the horizon. "A sparrow," Teague said curiously. "I never woulda figured."

Teague burst into the Captain's Quarters and picked up his son from the weak, nearly asleep woman. "Good evening, Jackie… Jack Sparrow."


	2. Separate Ways

Please do review

_Thank you so much for all of your reviews! I'm glad to see that people like Jack's story! I would've posted Chapter 2 earlier, but there was a Tornado Warning. Anyway…Please do __**review**__. I am depending on them. Enjoy!_

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**Chapter 2**

Separate Ways

Ten years had passed since the typhoon during which Jack was born. He still lived in Madras with his mother, learning the language of the natives (he never did that well with speaking Tamil, but he understood it perfectly).

"Amma!" He called for his mother. "When's father coming? Good Lord knows I could do with more gold."

"Jackie," said Meenakshi from the dingy kitchen. "Your father won't be due for…for a little bit. I don't know how long."

"You always say that," said Jack. "Every day, you tell me my father's coming in a little bit. I'm not stupid, Mums. I know he isn't coming. I'm smart, clever, I am. An' I can prove it. I've used my smarts for my money, and you – you know that."

Meenakshi sighed and held a hand to her head. "I think you sit."

Jack smirked. Her English had still to improve. Not since his father left last time. "No. I won't sit," said Jack, wanting to cause more trouble. He deserved his father's company. "What's so important that ol' Teague can't come and meet me? Now that, Amma, I don't take to be fair."

"Of course you don't," said Meena, wiping her dusty hands and pushing hair out of her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. "Your father is a great man, Jackie. But he's very busy keeping that name up – and sending the amount of gold that he sends us, it's hard without doing his duty. I love your father, Jack, but that isn't enough for him."

"You mean, I'm not enough for him," said Jack.

"No, Jackie. You _are_ – you mean the world to –"

"Amma, I know that somewhere out there, he's enjoying his life without me."

"'Zat the truth you believe in?" Jack turned around and turned red.

"John!" Meena kissed John's cheeks and took off his hat. Jack grimaced.

"Answer me, boy," said Teague. "Do you really think that I find life interesting without you?"

"'S jus' –" Jack began, unable to think of how to respond.

"I find it enjoyable, Jackie," said Teague, "but I miss you more than I could wish to receive pleasure – er – parsnip from my voyage."

"Parsnip?" Jack asked. He knew something was up. "I'll leave."

"Good of you. Yer friend Dobner's on board the _Intruder_, waiting for you."

"Thanks," said Jack, walking to his room. He slammed the door and pulled out an old painting. It was a window to his past – his young mother, ever so beautiful, the only fair-skinned Indian he had seen in the south, and him, as a three year old. His father was out of the painting, just as he was out of his life. He examined his own expression in the picture.

"Wonder wha' tha's called," he said to himself. _Pain_, he thought. _Longing_. He rolled up the painting and stuck it back in his treasure chest that his father brought back for him that year. It was filled with all of his personal effects, things he had collected there in India. _Maybe I can stow on father's ship_, he though, pulling things out of the chest. _He won't be able to get rid of me then_. He had a trinket that supposedly belonged to the Hindu God, Krishna, something his mother gave him. That was very special to him, so he took it out and tried to find a pocket to keep it on his person. Both of his pockets were torn. He examined the trinket closely. There was a little hole in it. He looked at his reflection in the grungy handheld mirror. His hair was shoulder-length now, perfectly long enough to tie the trinket in. He slowly fumbled with the purely gold trinket and tied it in with a knot.

He liked how it looked. He felt connected to power, the sort of power the Hindu Gods had, the sort of power his mum told him as a child. He looked into the treasure chest again and pulled out a little book his mother gave him when he was five-years-old. _"Only open it when you fear you won't see me again,"_ she said. Jack sighed, pained. Leaving his mum would be the hardest thing he'd faced in the ten years of his life. Jack contemplated the effects of opening the book and decided to save it for when he was on board. He stuffed it back into the chest and pulled out a number of items of sentimental value, seating them on the cold stone floor. He then pulled up the trick-bottom and emptied all of his gold coins into a large sack. There were five hundred pieces in all that he earned by doing odd jobs. Most days, after he finished working, he would go and sit in the shallows of the beach. He loved the cool water and the beauty of the mysterious horizon. He especially loved sunsets. Every time he sat in the water, which rose up to his waist when he sat, he hoped his father would arrive over that horizon. All he ever saw was fishermen in their boats, or a couple of galleons from the East India Company.

Jack sighed and put on his coat, then stuffed all of his precious items in his trunk. He stuck his sack of gold in the coat's pocket, then wrote a brief letter to his mother and stuck it under his pillow on his cot. His mother always removed the pillow when preparing the bed for him. Jack straigthened up, trying to look older, stronger, and proud and left for the port.

_I shouldn't let Dobner see me_, Jack thought… _He'd tell father I'm on the ship, then God knows what'll happen…_

Jack saw the men on the ship unloading chests and piles of gold. The amount of gold being carried out was hull-splitting. Jack's eyes wandered over the gold, suddenly forming an appetite for riches. When the men went back, Jack grabbed three satchels of gold and hid behind a tree. He wasn't stealing, was he? It was his father's, after all. Or so he thought.

Jack waited until the crewmembers who were unloading came off the ship again and ran around them. He quietly waded in the water behind the giant galleon, where no one would see him, and checked his pockets. The sacks were tied shut, and weren't going anywhere, but they were weighing him down. Jack grabbed a lower "plank" of wood and began climbing up the ship. He was cold and wet, and his pockets were so heavy he was afraid he'd fall back, but he was having the time of his life. He peeked over the hull. The entire crew was not to be seen. _Where could they be?_ Jack wondered, deciding to stay where he was. He sighed out of releif (and tiredness), wishing there was another way for this to go through. His eyes followed the men who were unloading. They went below decks. One of them, however, stopped at the Captain's Quarters. When he opened the door, it sounded as if there was a loud party going on in there. _So that's where they are_. Jack waited for the man to leave and go below decks, which he did after getting a pint of what Jack assumed was grog. When the two men left the decks below with another chest full of gold, Jack jumped off of the hull and onto the deck and quietly hurried down below.

There were many more decks than Jack had assumed were ever in his father's galleon, the _Intruder_. He had only ever been in the Captain's Quarters to meet Lucas Dobner, a boy who was five years older than him. Dobner was a good fellow, a good mate, who had taught him how to aim with a gun by shooting at empty rum bottles. His father never allowed him below decks, Jack guessed, probably because of the amount of gold – which he knew Jack would steal – and the stink.

Jack found a deck with hammocks on it. The smell was bearable, but nasty, so Jack chose the hammock closest to the starboard porthole (and farthest from the stairs), opened the porthole, and peered out. He could see his mother waving back to his father out on the harbor. Jack closed his eyes and pulled out his trunk from his wet coat. He opened it, and sighed with relief that none of the contents were wet. He pulled out his picture and looked at his mother outside. She looked the same, only now, she was a bit dirtier, what with being a mother and all. Jack rolled up the painting and stuck it back in his treasure chest. He lay back, and eventually, the rocking ship put him to sleep.

--

"Oi, Dobner!" Teague yelled. A burly, tan fifteen-year-old boy stepped out of the cabin.

"Yes, Cap'n!"

"Have you seen Jack? It's time to send him home," said Teague.

"Jack? As in your _son_ Jack?" Dobner asked. "Haven't seen 'im. Maybe he didn't leave?"

"That may be so," said Teague. "Little tyke. Sure he's, I don't know, doing something with his friend, what's his face."

"Darius?" asked Dobner. "Or Bollard?"

"Whatever. Anyone on the crew seen him?"

"No," said Dobner. "We's all been in that there cabin, playin' cards and whatnot. The only two people not in there were unloadin' the gold for ye to that lady –" _prostitute_, thought Dobner – "Meenakshi."

"And?"

"They ain't seen no one," said Dobner.

"Right, then he's with his friends. ALL RIGHT, LIFT ANCHOR! HOIST THE SAILS! I WANT MOVEMENT ON THIS DECK, DO YOU HEAR? I WANT MOVEMENT!" Teague looked one more time at the Port and waved at Meena, who was crying. She waved back and turned to walk home.

"FULL SAILS!"

Teague went into his cabin and looked around. There was no one but him. And they cleaned, too. _Now that's a change_, Teague thought, happy. He found his bottle of rum and opened it, raising his mouth up for a full swig. Not even a drop poured out. He peered into the bottle. "No rum. Why is the rum gone?"

Teague shuddered and threw his bottle against the door. It smashed to pieces. He walked out and looked around. Progress was being made, and soon enough, the _Intruder_ would be well beyond the horizon, on it's way to the New World – on it's way to the Caribbean.

Teague heard a mangled yell from below decks and ran down.

"What the blazes is going on – _Jack_?"

Jack sat in the corner, horrified. He slowly peered up at the massive frame that belonged to his father and made an attempt to soften his father with a grin. It didn't work.

"Johnathon Amit Sparrow," Teague thundered. "What the _hell_ are you doing on _this ship_?"

Jack wouldn't answer. His eyes were fixed on Dobner, who was smirking in the corner.

"Dobner, I want you to leave _now_," said Teague. "Make sure they set sail for India again, I don't want to –"

"_No!_" Yelled Jack. Both Dobner and Teague stared at him. "No," said Jack. "I heard you talking, father. I just – I just want to see what it's like…with you. You're never home. Ever. And I'm stuck doing nothing. I don't _fit_ with the other boys. I can't speak with them Indians. The other Brits don't accept me. Half-blood, they call me." At this point, Jack's tears were splashing down his front. "People hurt me, my mother is in a bad condition because I keep wanting my father and _here_ you are, enjoying your life by doing _Lord_ knows what and getting _loads_ of money for it. I want to know, father. I want to learn. _Please_."

Teague sighed. "Fine," he said. Jack stopped crying and wiped his tears off. _Time to be a man_, he thought. "Dobner, the heading's the original."

"To the Caribbean, then?"

"Aye, the Caribbean," said Teague. Dobner left immediately. "Jackie, the high seas – it isn't _for_ you."

"And you're home so often you'd have a way of knowin' that, is that it?"

"Jack," said John quietly, looking at his feet, sitting on a hammock. "The New World – the seas _to_ the New World – it's all a very dangerous place. Really. There are pirates about, there are – there is just _so_ much that could hurt you. I don't want that happening."

"If I'm ever to turn into a man, father, I think I ought to start now. Beginning with what I love most, which I think is the sea," said Jack. "It is the sea."

"You love the sea?"

"Nothing more," said Jack.

"Fine."

"Out of curiosity…what is your job? How do you get so much money?"

"I work for a higher order," said Teague silently. "I'm not supposed to…speak to you about…about this." _Because I'm the Pirate Lord of Madagascar…I am a _pirate_, but you cannot be. Not as long as your mother lives…_

"All right. That's fine."

"Go to my personal quarters, you can unload your _cargo_ and dry off," said Teague, his eyes wandering to Jack's sacks of Gold and trunk.

Jack nodded and grabbed his things, running to the Captain's Quarters. It was empty. There was nothing but a desk, a long couch with a lot of stains (little did he know that he was born on this couch), some chairs, a table with apples in a basket, and a map. He jumped onto the couch. Its fabric was soft and he sank into it. He looked underneath. There was a trap compartment under the couch, attached to a ribbon. He yanked the ribbon and saw the vast assortment of items that looked to be of both sentimental and monetary value. He looked around, and, seeing no one, stuck them in his trunk. He shut the trap compartment and looked around the room. On the wall, he found a beautiful painting of the sunset. He lifted the painting and found a small crevice and stuck the trunk and sacks inside.

Jack then took off his coat, left the quarters and ran to the bow. They were sailing into the setting sun. The water sprayed in his face and the sun toasted his chest, as he thought, _Free at last_.


	3. Learning of a Cause

Author's Note: Hi everyone

**Author's Note:** _Hi everyone! Wow, three chapters in one day! I really enjoy writing this, and I am very glad you all are enjoying it too! Thank you all for your reviews (and notes of care for my little Tornado incident ____), they're really very helpful for me! Remember to please __**read**__ and __**review**__ – I really would like to know what you think, that way I can fix errors in the future with my writing ____ I _am_ an aspiring author, you know. Anyway, go ahead, read, and enjoy!_

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Chapter 3

Learning of a Cause

By the time he reached the mansion of Mr. Cutler Beckett in Britain, Jack Sparrow, then a fifteen-year-old boy with looks that caused all of the ladies in his vicinity to swoon (and a mind so clever he could outwit almost every man he met), was an accomplished sailor. He had not a clue that his father was a pirate (how he managed to trick Jack into believing that, no one knows. Perhaps it was Jack's undying belief in his father that helped him to believe his father's words.), but he was trained in the arts of the sword by the masters his father knew from Spain. He had studied and learned all of the legends, myths, and stories of every culture, rereading the books that his mother had read to him as a child. He learned Spanish, French, and some Tamil (again, not his strongest point), as well as some gibberish languages his father taught him ("in case you ever run into cannibals, boy.") He had learned how to sail a ship in combat and war, as well as how to sail on any ordinary day at any speed necessary. He learned how to captain a crew and prevent his own mutiny. He studied pirates – whom he despised of – and how to counter them in battle. He never once missed a shot. He had collected more beads and trinkets from each country he had visited – Scandinavia, India, China, Singapore, Peru, to name a few – and tied them into his hair. In Cuba, a woman wove dreadlocks into his hair. In Croatia, he found a rather odd red cloth that he tied above his hair. In England, that fine, sunny day, Jack nicked a tricorne hat from the drunken harbourmaster. Jack Sparrow was already a sight for everyone to see.

"Ah, Mister Sparrow, we meet at last," said a rather short and stubby man, his nose flaring with an air of disgust at Jack's appearance. Jack grinned.

"Of course, Mister Beckett," said Jack. "I aim to serve. Now, what may I do for you on this fine day?"

"I shall give you…" Becket paused "…two-thousand pounds if you complete this task."

"What, pray tell, _is_ this task?"

"You are to sail to Spain. I want you to bring me some cargo from a man. His name is Caspienne Monterro. He lives in Madrid."

"And what may happen if I am _not_ to complete said important task?"

"I can only say that you will be quite unfortunate."

Jack nodded. "Just – out of curiosity – you're an official of the East India Trading Company. How old _are_ you?"

Beckett grimaced. This _Jack Sparrow_ was making him much more uncomfortable than he thought he would. "Twenty," said Beckett. "I – how do you say this? – _inherited_ this position from my father."

"'Zat legal?" Jack muttered.

"Pardon?"

"You will get your _cargo_ as soon as possible," said Jack.

--

He was in Spain. It only took one day, what with the new sails pushed to the highest limit. It took another day, however, to reach Madrid on horseback. Jack learned only one thing out of the experience: riding on a horse, with or without a saddle, was excruciatingly painful. Jack vowed never to do it again after this Spanish conquest of sorts.

Sparrow walked with an air of pride. The women all whispered and looked in his direction, many of who were smiling and batting their eyelashes. Jack grinned, but kept walking along. Eventually he reached a rather large Spanish mansion, one he presumed belonged to Caspienne Monterro. The guards let him in and he wandered the mansion. Monterro did not appear to be at his house, so Jack took the liberty of wandering through Caspienne's house.

Eventually he stumbled into a room that smelled of roses. The closet was open. There were gorgeous lady's clothes and freshly pressed men's clothes. Jack looked at Monterro's fabulous navy blue coat that sat on the mannequin and observed his own, frayed, greyish-blue coat. He knew exactly what to do. Seeing none of Monterro's guards, Jack switched coats with the mannequin. Monterro wouldn't notice until he got back, and Jack felt like a God. The sleeves were a little long and wide for him, but he would grow into them. Then he walked through the bathroom and saw a large black crayon. _Eyeliner_, he thought. _Mum always had these_. Jack always wanted to know what eyeliner looked like on him – he had seen his father wear it, but never once asked him. Upon trying it on, he noticed that he looked much more…unique. He rummaged through the top drawer and grabbed all of the eyeliner crayons that were sitting in it and stuffed them in his new coat pocket. Then he fixed up the arrangement and closed the drawer.

He went back downstairs and pretended to be innocent. "Está él incluso en el país?" He asked to a guard at the front of the mansion. ("Is he even at home?")

"No," said the guard. "Él está en la taberna."

"Mm," Jack said. "The tavern. Right."

After asking three locals (the first two women wouldn't answer, rather, they kept trying to make advances on him. He merely shrugged them off.), Jack finally located the tavern in which Monterro was enjoying drinks.

"Oi! You! Caspienne Monterro!" Jack yelled. Monterro looked up and raised a hand. Jack sat by him and turned to the bartender. "Give me a big bottle. I prefer…rum."

In truth, Jack had never tried rum. He disliked the smell that it made – especially when Lucas Dobner drank it. (Pigsty, he thought). But on this fine occasion, Jack felt up to drinking it.

"Si," said the man.

"Monterro," said Jack. "You speak English?"

"You kiddin' me? I _am_ English? Er – partly English. Me dad's a Spaniard."

"Like I care."

"That's nice, you go right on ahead and mock me, now will ya? You! I'll have a fourth bottle! Make it nice and ripe!"

"Lo beben," said the bartender.

"I know he's drunk," said Jack. "Caspienne Monterro, is it?"

"Yeah? What's it to you?"

"I've been sent by Mister Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company to –"

Monterro choked on his whiskey. "Beckett? That can't be good," he said. "No, no. It isn't right. He's after it, I know he's after it!"

"After what?"

"Didn't he _tell_ you what it was that he wanted?"

"No, not really. Only that he wanted _cargo_ delivered by you – and that you would know what he meant."

"I can't. I _won't_. Goodbye, Mister?"

"Sparrow."

"Goodbye, Mister Sparrow. Sayonara. Au Revoir. Adiós. I will not give my jewels to you."

"_Your_ jewels? Is that what all of those giant fruits were?" Jack realized, remembering the fruit-shaped items he had curiously found in the giant vanity.

"You – you _saw_ them?"

"I will take them. Thank you for your time." Jack got up and turned. Then he felt something tapping his shoulder. He realized that the entire tavern was quiet. He turned his head and saw the tip of a sword resting on his shoulder. He turned to face Monterro, whose dirty hand was gripping the sword. He was no longer drunk. Jack, however, decided to ignore that.

"You think this wise, Monterro? I have trained under the most skilled masters in all of Spain – in the entire _world_ – and you are willing to fight me? You think that you, a drunken _pig_ what calls himself Lord can defeat me?"

Monterro could take it no longer. He yelled and brought his sword up. Before he could bring it down, however, Jack's iron cutlass slashed through the air, and so they fought. Caspienne threw a classic Spanish move, and Jack dodged it. He slashed, cut and cleaved through the air, then he jumped in a circle, his sword in front of him. He disengaged Monterro, who then whipped out his pistol. Jack kicked the pistol out of the way and hit his forehead against Monterro's, who then went into a mode we all call unconscious.

"That ought ter take care of him. As fer all of you," Jack said, addressing the crowd, "No era nada. Él deseó robarme." ("It was nothing. He wanted to rob me.") The crowd nodded, understanding.

--

Jack retrieved the jewels, stuffing them in a large black sack with the East India Company's logo printed on it in silver. He saved one, a large ruby the size – and shape – of an apple and stuck it in his pocket. Once he reached the _Intruder_, he saw his father at the helm.

"Erm…hello, father," said Jack. He hadn't seen Teague in a year, so seeing him at the helm of the ship was a downright shock. Over the past few years, Jack had seen his father turn into a dangerous man, but he knew that he ought to show his fearlessness.

"Wonderin' what I be doin' here, boy?"

"Yes, that," said Jack.

"I see you donned eyeliner. And a coat," said Teague.

"I just want to know one thing. Where've yeh been?"

Teague's expression was pained. His then crackled skin looked as if it would crack a hundred times more. Teague was fifty years older than Jack, though, so it was highly expected. "Your mother."

Jack started. His eyes widened and he clutched the hull. "What happened to my mother?"

"I don't think now is the best time."

"Tell me _now_," said Jack.

"She – really, is it –"

"TELL ME ABOUT MY MOTHER _NOW_ OR I SWEAR I WILL NEVER ONCE SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN!"

Teague looked at Jack with slight exasperation. Jack caught his eyes. He saw that they were glistening with tears. _Johnathon Teague, crying?_

"Your mother contracted a deadly disease. Meenakshi Aamani Perumaal is now but a figment of our memories."

Jack held his chest and covered his eyes.

"I'm never going to let go of her. Literally," said Teague. Jack couldn't bear to hear any more. He tore into the Captain's Quarters and broke the wooden chair. He shot at it several times and upturned the desks. He accidentally threw a painting off the wall –

– and found an old treasure chest and four sacks of gold. Jack emptied his ruby and stuck it with the bags he had forgotten over the years. He pulled out the chest and looked through the items. There was the painting he had so yearned to see all those years – the painting he had lost. Then there were some old Spanish engravings and beads he'd be sure to put in his hair. Next, he saw a small, old, battered book.

It was time to read his mother's notebook.


	4. The Name

Author's Note: Hi everyone

**Author's Note:** _Hi everyone! Not quite sure about what you thought of Chapter 3, nonetheless, I have written chapter 4 for you all. If you think chapter 3 should be changed in any way (slow it down, etc.), please tell me – I'd like to make it something_ everyone_ enjoys. Please read, __**review**__, and enjoy! Thanks!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Four**

The Name

_My Dearest Jack,_

_I feared the day you would read this would be too soon. I wanted to see you more than anything. Now, I'm afraid, it's time I tell you the truth._

_What has your father told you about his profession?_

Jack paused, thinking…_nothing, really_, he thought.

_I am very sure that he has told you he is a privateer. I hope you are on your way to becoming a great, good man who follows the laws. Unfortunately, your father is nothing of the sort._

_Johnathon Edward Teague is a pirate. Not just any pirate – he is a Pirate Lord, the Pirate Lord of Madagascar. The Pirate Lords are the most feared pirates in all of the world and they come to meet in what is known as the "Brethren Court" – the Court of the Order of the Brethren of Pirates._

Jack held a hand to his head. "I should've known," he said out loud.

_Just because your father is a pirate, doesn't mean you have to be one. Be what you want to be – but don't do anything that you don't believe in, Jackie. I trust you will do the right thing._

_Keep in mind that your father is not one to cross. Should you once get on his bad side, he will not show you mercy as he used to. If you are reading this a young boy, then perhaps you are safe. If you are reading this as a young man, then be warned. Your father loves you, that I am certain. But he is still a Pirate Lord. And he must not be fought with._

_I love you more than ever – I will always love you and watch you from wherever it is that I am. You will always be in my heart, my child._

_Love,_

_Your Mother Meena_

_Postscript: It would be best if you didn't read the rest of the notebook right away. I want you to save them for when you need them most. Perhaps you should read them should you encounter the worst or decide to follow the path of your father. I trust you will make the right choice._

Jack closed the notebook and stuffed it in his trunk, cleaned up the room, and hid his valuables once more behind the painting. He grabbed another bottle of rum from his father's desk (he had begun to take a liking to the overly-sweet flavour) and lay back on the couch, his head on one end, his feet coming off the other and took a long swig. His father was a pirate. And after all the things Jack believed in – that pirates were despicable, disgusting creatures what had no real purpose in life but to forge a wall of crime around them and hide within – Jack's own father was one of them.

"Jackie, my boy?" he heard. Jack didn't respond to the now-quiet man what was named Teague. "Jack, I'm sorry about your mother. I would've told you earlier about the disease if I could, but –"

"You would've told me earlier." Jack's eyes were still fixated on the ceiling.

"Yes," his father said, wondering why on earth Jack wasn't responding well to him.

"You would've told me earlier about the disease," said Jack, "the same way you would've told me you were – you were a _pirate_," he spat.

_Oh, no,_ thought Teague. "Right. Jack, it's time you and I had a little talk, savvy?" Teague pulled out a different chair than the mangled mess that sat on the floor. "Sit up."

Jack obeyed reluctantly. "All I want to know is this: after all this time of my trusting you, raiding the seas because I thought you were a _privateer_ or whatnot, I learn you are a despicable _pirate_ –"

"You _will not _talk to your father that way!" Teague snarled, his hand closing on the butt of his pistol. He let go immediately.

"Yes, I will," said Jack, pressing the matter. "I have every right to. You lied to me, you lied to me more than I thought you _could_…" Jack was shaking with rage until he finally let out what was bothering him most: "I LEARNED ABOUT YOU FROM MY NOW-DEAD MOTHER, AND NOW NOT EVEN YOU CAN HELP ME HEAL. I WILL NEVER HEAL, POPS, NEVER! AND YOU AREN'T HELPING THE SITUATION EITHER!"

Teague's eyes were blazing with anger but he kept his calm. "And might I ask how you received an audience with the ghost of said fair lady?"

"No, you might not," said Jack. "The least you owe me is…is something."

"I know that, Jackie. I brought something from India for you. It's now tied behind the ship. I've taken the most care as could be."

Jack looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Teague stood up. "I think it's time you come with me, boy. I tried to show you earlier. It only seemed that you were too taken with emotions –"

"And with good reason," Jack snapped, following his father outside. They both climbed above deck where the helm was.

"Look over the stern, Jackie," said Teague. Until that moment, Jack was looking at his feet. But the moment he looked up, the splendour and size of what he saw was greater than anything he imagined.

It was a giant East Indiaman – one of the biggest ships in the world. "I left the name area blank just in case you wanted to name it."

"I – I… I… I…" Jack couldn't stop. He felt horrible about yelling at Teague, yet he still couldn't help but to feel a little betrayed.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Jackie," said Teague painfully. "I just had to wait until your mother died. That was the promise I made her."

"Oh…" said Jack. "In that case, then…how about we name it the _Wicked_…erm… I don't know, something in honour of mums."

"_Wench_?" asked Teague. "It means woman, of sorts…"

Jack didn't want to know what 'of sorts' meant in that situation, but he liked it. "Sounds perfect. The _Wicked Wench_. Inspires fear, don't it?"

"Sure, boy," said Teague with a smile. "Tell ye what, you get aboard yer ship, and I'll give you half of me crew. We have forty people all in all, anyway. And yer a fair bit decent at captainin', aren't you?"

"Have been captaining for the past five years, erm, pops."

"Good," said Teague. "And you're not on the wanted list, either…like me, I mean."

Jack was silent.

"Get aboard the Wench, son. I'll send Raja to paint the name with gold-coloured paint."

"Great," said Jack, who then swung, by a rope, to the _Wench_. He ran across the deck, up the flights of stairs, and onto the back of the ship by the wheel. His hand caressed the helm with care. It was much bigger than the _Intruder_ – by a long shot. Jack grinned, straightened up and looked at his father. He gave him a solemn nod. Jack felt like an older, more important person already – someone he wanted to be.

"Did you take your things?" Jack raced back through the day. _The trunk_. The _Intruder_ was already taking off.

"WAIT!" Jack pulled his ship up against the _Intruder_.

"What the hell do you need?"

"My things. Drop your anchor," said Jack, who had already done so. He swung back onto the _Intruder_, rushed through the Captain's Quarters, gathered his things and went back onto the _Wicked Wench_.

"I have a feeling this won't be the last I see of you," Teague shouted over the winds.

"Neither do I," said Jack. "But I won't be seeing you for a long time."

"You really think so?"

"I _know_ so," said Jack confidently. "I don't know what it is _you'll_ do, out pirating, whatever. I don't wish to know. As for me, I have a feeling there are many adventures up my sleeve. Now, I take your leave."

Teague smiled proudly as Jack gave orders to his crew.

"RAISE THE ANCHOR! PULL THE SAILS UP! HOIST THE COLOURS HIGH! FULL SAIL! CLEAN THE DEECK! RAJA, IS THE NAME FINISHED?"

"YES, CAPTAIN SPARROW!" Raja yelled from across the decks.

"GOOD. Now…_bring me that Horizon_," Jack said, remembering what his father often said at the beginning of voyages.

It was time to return to Beckett.


	5. The Sparrow In Flight

Author's Note: I'm really glad all of you are enjoying the story, truly

**Author's Note:** _I'm really glad all of you are enjoying the story, truly. If you're reading the story for the first time, best you start at Chapter One. This will be a little hard to understand here and there unless you read it this way. Anyway, thank you so much for the lovely reviews – they're really helping me more than you all know! I know this first part implies something nasty, but because I'm a conservative – and classy :) – person, I didn't write out a scene. That would be wrong and not moral. Please read, __**review**__, and _**ENJOY**_! _

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Five**

The Sparrow in Flight

Jack woke up, not entirely sure about the identity of the young woman next to him. He only remembered that he had come to Singapore…and learning that his mother didn't die of a disease, but was shot by some drunken pig. He had to deal with some Frenchman named "Jules Anormal" who had stolen from the East India Company and resided in the company of the Singaporean beauties. He was being paid well. Then he remembered the young woman who had so willingly taken him.

Now he remembered. Her name was Jia Li. Jack sat up, dressed.

"You wake?" she asked. "You pay me."

"Aye," he said, stuffing a wad of Singaporean money into her white hands. The twenty-year-old's eyes sparkled at the sight of it.

Jack nodded. "I hope there is a day we will meet again, Jia Li." He meant it.

"Yes. I, too."

-o-o-o-

Jack was once again in London. Beckett's job was finished – the cargo of mysterious items Jack had no understanding of was being carried on a giant cart.

Jack's first mate, a man he had picked up at London who went by the name of Bootstrap Bill Turner (his bootstraps had intricate designs with dragons and Lord understood what else), was so loyal he wouldn't 'commandeer' his ship and drag it off to Tortuga for a drink, as Jack so often liked to do.

Eventually, he stopped the cart at Beckett's rather large mansion and dragged the three crates into the main room. A stern-faced man came out.

"Who're you?" Jack asked, mildly surprised.

"You are to call me 'Mister Mercer,'" said the man.

"Mercer, eh?" Jack asked. _Strange name with an ugly man_, he thought. _Fits well_.

"And who might _you_ be?" Mercer asked, spitting out the word 'you' as if it was the word 'scum.'

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, if you please, sir," said Jack. "I've been working with Mister Beckett for the past seven years. Or so. This here's 'is cargo." Jack thought. _Started at fifteen, now I'm…what, twenty-two? Yeah, sounds right._

"His cargo," Mercer repeated.

"Erm, yes," said Jack. "From Singapore."

"Ah, right," Mercer said in the same cold tone. "I shall inform him of your presence."

"Good, you go on then," said Jack. "I've already been paid."

The moment Mercer left the room, Jack left the mansion, picking the pocket of the door-greeter on the way.

Jack eventually reached the town square of London, where he entered a tattoo parlour. He had seen loads of tattoos donned by the crew and wanted a few of his own – not just one.

There was a blonde woman inside with sparkling green eyes. Her lips were pouted and chapped. She wasn't that pretty, but she seemed to do her work skilfully.

"'lo, mate," she said. "Int'rsted in a tat?"

"Erm – yeah, that," said Jack.

"You got a picture in mind?" Jack nodded, and pulled out a picture he had doodled a long time ago – his twentieth birthday, when he saw a bird flying in the horizon.

"I want this. On me arm."

"You got yerself a deal, mate," she said. "But I want me payment firs'. Can' say I've been decently treated. Shot in the arm once, too," she said, holding up her arm. There was a scar of a bullet. Jack flinched. "There be some nasties out there – really very greedy bu' in no mood to pay for what they get."

"Hoping they get their just punishment, eh?"

"Quite so," she said, pulling out needles and bluish-black ink. She continued speaking to him while she did her work, but Jack eyes were shut tight at the pain, barely registering her words. "You want ter learn the story o' this beauty here?" Again she held up the shot arm.

Jack nodded. "It'd get my mind off of your needlin'."

"Sounds fair enough," said the woman, who immediately went back to putting the drawing on his arm. "I was much younger, I'd say, eighteen. That was when I actually did look good, I did. I know I did. Vain, I was, I could say that. People used to comment and tell me of my beauty. I had suitors lined up fer me, maybe a dozen, all decent, like.

"I had just opened this li'l shop aft'r me older brother taught me how ter do it – he loved gettin' himself a tat every now and then. The first three days were a success. I had old men, fat men, skinny men, little women, and whatnot. On the fourth day, I remember this clearly, I do, I was clearin' the counter. Stuffin' me money into me sacks, when this one man walked in.

"He looked handsome, although I'd say, a little less handsome than you, sir," the woman continued, pushing the needles in and out. "'E had brown hair and green eyes. He told me, 'I want to marry you, Yvaine,' he said, 'I have lived across the street for your entire life and all the time have seen your beautiful face through the window and loved you.' I says to him, I says nice and loud, 'You ain' no one I'd count. I hardly knows you!' The man got gruff and said 'You marry me or I'll shoot ye.' I on'y thought he was a lunatic – I mean, 'is entire fam'ly havin' a history of 'em, like. An' so I on'y says to him, I says, 'You's an idgit, Thomas Greythorne, an' you can go off 'n shoot any'ne yeh like fer all I cares,' I said."

She was putting the blue ink in the dots of blood where the sun met the water on his soon-to-be-finished tattoo.

"He sounds like a mental buffoon, all right, I'll give 'im that," said Jack.

"Yeah, that he was, innit? So he clicks back his damn pistol – it bein' so small an' all that yeh couldn't really care. An' then he gives me a shot an' runs away. Last I hears of 'im, he been locked up in prison fer assaulting 'is mums or summat."

Jack looked at his arm. It was finished – it was glorious, it was…it was his spirit in embodiment.

"How do yeh like it?" asked Yvaine.

"Like it?" Jack asked, admiring the bird. "I love it."

"What's yer name, sir?"

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, if you please," he said.

"An' are yeh gonna name yer li'l tat there?"

"Why would I name a tattoo?" Jack asked, looking at her with an incredulous look.

"Well, 's jus' a bit o' fun, now, it is," she said quietly.

"I dunno…" he thought, looking at the bird. The scene looked familiar. "The Sparrow in Flight. Yeah, tha's it. On'y, don't expect me to remember that."

"When the shores push you here once more, Cap'n," Yvaine said, "I'll tell yeh. I'll always remember."

Jack nodded, stuffing a couple of gold coins into her hands.

"Now, yeh musn' wash it fer a couple o' hours. Won' do the ink much good. Yeh can wash it la'r, maybe nightfall. Yeh _need_ ter wash it sometime, or summat'll happen ter it. Migh' swell, too, now, come ter think o' it. But it'll go down," she said. "Bu' it'll look just gran' an' dandy, it will."

"I don' want to come off as dandy," said Jack, "but sounds good to me. Thanks, Yvaine."

"'Course. Don' mention it. An' come here soon," she said, bowing him out of her shop.

-o-o-o-

Jack was enjoying himself at the Blue Anchor tavern, having three pints and two ladies by his side. One of them was a blonde one, quite pretty. Her name was Giselle. She said she ran away from Canterbury, where her father was going to force her to marry some pompous pig-headed butcher. But no, she wanted to earn her money, so she came here, a wench and all. The other was a redhead, less pretty, but pretty nonetheless. She had a sharp tongue too. _Her_ name was Scarlett, and her mother had been a proud woman, earning her own money, and she decided to do it as well.

Jack was already winding false stories through their ears – stories of how he fought off pirates in Singapore who could regenerate their minor wounds. In truth, he had only ever _heard_ of these pirates in their Singaporean lair, but he dared not fight them. Not yet.

"…An' I'm tellin' you, them ugly ol' pirates are an eyesore," he said, "tha' Sao Feng, he's an' ol' one. Stuck a broom up his arse –"

"Ah, there you are, _Captain_ Sparrow," said a drawling voice. Jack rolled his eyes and sighed. _Mercer_.

"Well, ladies, if you'd be kind enough to report to my _ship_, I'll take you lot to the Caribbean."

"Ooh, which one is it?" asked Giselle in an unusually high-pitched voice.

"Um, the _Wicked Wench_?" said Jack. He then turned to Mercer. "Can I help you, mate?"

"Yes, in fact," said Mercer, pulling out a scroll. "It says here that Mister Beckett would like a shipment of cargo from Le Côte D'Ivoire."

"Africa, then?" asked Jack.

"Yes, in fact. We would like for you to deliver the cargo to Port Royal when you're done; Mister Beckett will join you there."

"Very well," said Jack. "My pay, if you will."

Mercer flared his nostrils and handed him thirty pounds.

"On'y thirty? Look here, mate, if this is an important voyage, I gotta have more than I usually get. And usually I get around two thousand pounds. More, I say."

Mercer rolled his eyes and handed him two thousand, seven hundred. "Three thousand, all in all," he said. "Make do with it."

Jack nodded and swaggered his way out of the tavern.

-o-o-o-

"Bootstrap!"

"Aye, Cap'n," said the faithful man, coming about.

"I say we settle this little deal wiv' Beckett now an' go an' get ourselves tha' cargo for 'im," Jack said.

"'Course," said Bootstrap. "But really, first, I must go and see my son, my boy."

"You've a son?"

"I'm thirty years old. I should have a son with me wife, Lucinda. He's a strappin' young lad, ten years old."

"I don't think I really care."

"Thanks," said Bootstrap.

"An' what's 'is name?"

"William, just like me."

"Your name's _William_?"

"Me best kept secret," said Bootstrap. "Only, ye best tell no one. Don't want stalkers around now, do we?"

"Who'd wanna stalk you?"

"'Scuse me?"

"Erm – never you mind," said Jack. "Go and see your boy, oh, what's his face. Righ'?"

"Thanks."

"No problem, mate," said Jack. He'd just go and talk with his two ladies, who were jabbing away near the helm. "Now, ladies, where were we?"

-o-o-o-

Scarlett and Giselle had already overcome their initial seasickness and were proving to be a downright pain.

"There's nothing to _do_, Jack!" Scarlett would whine.

"Oh, stop being a fussy," Giselle would fight, "Jack doesn't like women who whine, _do_ you, Jack?" She would bat her eyelashes.

Jack would groan in tiredness of the daily repeated activity. "Enough, ladies, please. We've got to deliver some cargo for his 'Highness' Cutler Beckett…the idiot."

"See, I'm not the only one who whines! My Jack does too," said Scarlett.

"_Your_ Jack, who's _your _Jack? I only see _my_ Jack, and he's at the wheel-thingy –"

"The _helm_, it is called the _helm_ and I am _nobody's_ man yet, nor _can_ I be if you both _don't stop arguing_!"

And so it went until they finally reached the Ivory Coast in Africa.

"Ah, Mister Sparrow, sir!" said a runt of black man who wore a weedy expression.

"_Captain_ Sparrow, you," said Jack. "Where be the cargo?"

"They're all lined up, right over there, as Mister Beckett asked."

Jack looked to the left and saw staggering women, men, and children all chained together, getting whipped by a deckhand.

"What the _blazes_ is that?" asked Jack, horrified at the way the people were being treated.

"That's the cargo, sir, just asked he asked. Two hundred in all. Around a 'undred already died, sir, but they isn't mourned."

Jack gulped and nodded. He told the deckhand to gently put the people on his ship.

-o-o-o-

"All right! Now that you're all on _my_ ship – wait, you do all speak English, or understand it, do you?"

"Cut to the chase, wouldja?" asked a burly man. "And is there food for me wife an' child? An' we need hospitality. They've been whipped to near-death."

"I want to say this, all right? An' I won't be interrupted," said Jack. "Listen: I don't want you to be in this state. And I'm to deliver you to some pompous prat named Cutler Beckett. You all are human beings, innit? Righ'. So I'm going to do this, whatever the consequence may be."

"Do what?" yelled a child. His mother responded in their native language to say "Let the man speak."

"I am going to sail you up to Mauritania and smuggle you in through the borders. You will be free people, just as you were born to be."

The people slowly began to smile.

"Now, where are the keys to those damn chains? Bootstrap!"

"Aye, Cap'n! Here be the keys. Should we make sail for Mauritania then?"

"Quite so, my good man," Jack said. He began to open each of the cuff links of the people's hands and feet.

"Oh, bless you, son," said a woman. "You will do great things."

"I know," said Jack to himself. "I _will_."

Little did Jack know that the weedy man was watching the entire scene unfold. He spoke, in his native language, to the postmaster who immediately sent a notice to Cutler Beckett.

-o-o-o-

Twelve days, that's how long it took to get from Mauritania to Tortuga, where he got off with Scarlett and Giselle.

"I know this is a despicable pirate haven," he said. "But there's always rum, and rum's good."

Giselle giggled and Scarlett smirked.

"Well, then, I best be heading for that Port Royal place, then, sort things out wiv' ol' Beckett and whatnot."

"_Bye_ Jack," said the two women.

"If you both would be so kind, I would like a kiss."

"I'll kiss you first!" yelled Scarlett.

"No, I will! You meant me, didn't you?"

"No, he meant me. And we both know it. Because I'm more important."

"Why you little –" _shove_.

"Excuse me!" _Shove._

"Yes, excuse you for being too saucy!" _Hair-pulling_.

Jack rolled his eyes and walked off, onto his ship.

-o-o-o-

"Well, Captain Sparrow, we meet again," said Beckett coldly from his station. "You know, I was actually beginning to like you."

_You sod!_ Jack thought. _Nasty little eunuch_.

"Turns out I was wrong. You broke a law."

"Which law did I break? One that said not all men are born free, is tha' it?"

_Weasel_, thought Jack.

"You broke _my_ law." Beckett pounced on him in all his dignified shortness and pushed a flaming-hot rod on his arm. Jack yelped in pain. "Ah, should've cooled." He pulled it off. Jack yelped harder. Some of his skin had come off with the branding stick.

"You bast –"

"Oh, I see you wish to call me by a name. Tut, tut, now that won't do," said Beckett. "You are to call me Mister Beckett, or Lord, as I one day will become."

"Yes, your _eminence_." Jack said. He poured the brandy from Beckett's flask onto his arm and quietly pulled out a gun while Beckett was turned, admiring a small figurine of his.

Jack shot at his feet, causing him to dance a most humiliating dance. "How do you like being my puppet, eh, short-stuff?"

"How _dare_ you!"

"Oh, so now it's a female short-stuff. So sorry, milady, I had no idea –"

"You think it's _funny_?"

"Actually, yes, I do," said Jack. He pulled out a little carving knife from a chest and stabbed Beckett's arm. "You are a vile and insolent creature. Don't think that you're going to get away with it."

"Really, _pirate_?"

Jack stopped talking, his eyes blazing with anger. "I'M NOT A GODDAMN PIRATE, YOU HEAR?"

"Oh yes?" Beckett asked with a maddening glint in his eyes.

"YES!"

"Then what's that mark on your arm?" Beckett enjoyed the satisfaction of Jack's freakish anger at the newly branded _'P'_ that sat right above his new tattoo.

"Why, you little _weasel_ –"

"Ah, Mister Mercer, so nice of you to join us. I would like you to burn this pirate's ship down. I believe its name is the _Wicked Wench_, is that it?"

"NO!" Jack ran to the door, sword unsheathed, but a Navy guard knocked him to the ground with his foot.

"Lock him up in the prison," said Beckett, enjoying it. "Oh, and give him the one with the view of the port. I should like for him to see his _precious ship_ burn down. And give me a little feast, would you? I'd like to enjoy this through my window."

Mercer nodded and hurried off. The navy guards dragged Jack, who was flopping about, trying to get up (how unlike him!) and shut him in an empty cell by himself, locking the door. Jack waited until they were gone and looked closely at the lock. If it was loose enough, he could kick the door down and hopefully save his ship. The crew, as he already knew, was out enjoying themselves at the local tavern, the _Rowdy Rooster_.

Jack was right – the lock was flimsy. He stood back a bit and kicked it hard, at the centre, three times, knocking it down. _Someone would've heard that_, he thought, quickly grabbing his belt and wrapping it around his waist. He stuck his hat on his head and ran out the top.

"Damn!" he heard a voice below. "We should fix them locks!"

"Shut up about the locks," said another voice, "ALERT THE DAMN WATCH!"

_Shoot_, Jack said, running as fast as he could. He realized, as he ran, that he was running as if the ground was rocking. As if he was on his ship. He realized he walked that way, too. He liked how it felt. But that wasn't what he should've been contemplating. He pulled out his pistol and ran to the tavern.

"BOOTSTRAP! GET THE CREW! WE'RE LEAVIN'!"

The entire crew scrambled about and followed him in their mad rush to the ship. "NO!" The ship was already on fire. The bow was gone, but there was hope yet for the Captain's Quarters.

Jack remembered his trunk and swung from the top of the port's deck onto the ship. The fire was closing in on him – oil everywhere. He ran in, threw a painting off the wall (the ship's interior was very much like the _Intruder_'s), grabbed his trunk, and opened the window in the back. He jumped into the water and swam off the other way, ending up on the beach. The _Wicked Wench_ was gone. Forever.


	6. No Limits

Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**_ There's so much emotion flying around now in the story – with Jack, I mean, who I love writing, he's so unique – that it's getting quite interesting to write. I'm going to introduce an OC soon, a "flame" of Jack's that just goes on and off between adventures. She's unusual like Jack, and you'll like her. I hope. She'll be coming a lot throughout this long saga of a story :) Now you all sit back, read, __**review**__, yadiyadi, enjoy!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Six**

No Limits

"Jack, listen to me, mate. She was only a ship," said Bootstrap. "And now, look at yeh. A pirate. Makes us all pirates, mate. We're what you are."

"I had _memories_ in that ship," said Jack, brandishing the sword he received from an Italian Master (whom he had exchanged Chinese Silk with to learn the basic arts of the sword before going to Spain). _And loads of wenches many a night there, too_. "Memories you can't replace."

"Listen to me, Jack," said Bootstrap. "My son was born while I was on that ship. I missed his birth for voyages with you, mate. And to think that very ship I spent my evenin's on, enjoyin' me nights, waiting to see my son, is sunken, now, tha's a hard call."

"Damn right it is."

"Look, I get you're sad. But you're our Cap'n. We here'll be doin' anything to help ye."

"How's that? On'y you, Raja, and Mike left behind. Gibbs's gone off to go join them damn navy peoples an' the rest of the crew…well…Lord knows what they're doin' here in Tortuga. I NEED A FIFTH PINT, LOVE!"

The barmaid gave him a saucy grin and handed him another. "Thanks, love," he said, pushing a shilling into her hand. "You know, maybe I'll get meself a tat. Should help me mood."

"Right."

"I'll get one of the _Wench_."

"Jack, she's at the bottom of Davy Jones's locker. Not that you can do anything about it."

Jack was silent for a moment, thinking. "Maybe there _is_."

-o-o-o-

Jack walked slowly out of the tattoo parlour, his back stinging a lot. He had just gotten verses from the poem called _Desiderata_ on his back. He had spent the entire time trying to remember what he had learned about Davy Jones's Locker all those many years ago. _Something 'bout a monster who didn't have a heart…an' he…an'…_ Jack groaned. Remembering was the hard part.

He walked sportingly to Evelyn, the pretty (but thick-headed) Bartender at the _Faithful Bride_, where Bootstrap, Raja, and Mike were all enjoying drinks, and sat in front of her on a stool.

"Evelyn, love," he said with a grin. "I've got meself a question for you."

"Aye," said Evelyn tenderly. "Ask away, Jack."

"What do you know about Davy Jones's Locker?"

"It's where them dead men on the sea go, that's all. But I do know about Davy Jones 'imself, if ye want ter know."

"By all means, dearie, whisk away."

"Well, 'e was a sailor, just as you. Fell in love with a woman – not just any woman, mind, but the Goddess of the Sea. My pops tol' me. Anyways, 'e was driven mad by 'er – wanted to get away from 'er but loved 'er yet still. Not quite sure why. One day, 'e could take it no longer, so 'e pulls out 'is own fat blade and carves out 'is still beatin' 'eart."

Jack shuddered. "That's…"

"Jones for you. But listen: men have struck deals wiv' 'im to make themselves live longer than judgement day. They spend years at 'is mast – 'e bein' the ruler of the sea, that is. 'E can do anythin' –"

"For any_one_," Jack realized. That was how to get the _Wench_ back. Strike a bargain with Jones. "How does one summon this nasty beastie?"

Evelyn giggled. Jack sat there, transfixed, waiting for an answer. "I don't know. I never wanted ter try it, I mean, after all, 'e must be some sort of a scary li'l brute of types, you know what I'm saying?"

"Aye," said Jack quietly. "Nice talking to you, love." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and left her sight to go sit by Bootstrap.

"'Lo, Cap'n," he said. Jack nodded.

"Now, you three," he said. "I know how to get me ship back!"

"Oh, dear god," Raja said.

"Yes, I am. Now, I want you three to gather a crew – make it a large one, with some fearsome pirates, and some ninnies too."

"You want cowards," said Bootstrap.

"Are you questionin' Captain's orders?"

"No," said Bootstrap. "All right. We'll turn this little table o' ours into a sign in deck."

"Good. All three of you in _one_ boat. No one leaves the crew after this," said Jack.

Raja immediately said, "I wouldn't _dream_ of leaving the crew!"

"Ah, buttering the Captain. I like it."

"Nor would I! I am your most loyal –" began Mike, but Jack shook his head.

"Bootstrap is still me first mate, and will always be, save for the situation in which I lose him to Davy Jones, which would be quite unfortunate, mind you, something I don't want happening, but if it does happen I'd recruit one of you, because he'd be in that Godforsaken Locker; of course, I'm pretty damn sure he won't be going to said locker because _I'm_ striking a deal wiv' Jones. Not that you need to know. So yes, in any instance, Bootstrap 'ere is me first mate. End of Story. Zip. The End. Good bye. How was that, eh, Bill?"

"Erm – thanks," said Bootstrap, confused as the crew of three at Jack's rather lengthy and twisty word choices.

"Don't mention it, mate. Now…get your jobs done. I'll be out for a bit, gettin' meself my ship back, now if you don't mind…" Jack swaggered out of the tavern, leaving the three gaping.

-o-o-o-

Jack went through a jungle to get on the side of Tortuga that was less noisy and less populated. The beach was cool, and the breeze was nice. It was something that didn't happen often. It had been a year since the _Wench_ had burned down, and what was puzzling Jack was why it had never occurred to him to summon Davy Jones. Then again, he had heard stories of Jones's tentacled mane and rathered he hadn't to touch the nasty…beastie.

Shady dealings often occurred on this area of Tortuga, and occasionally, drunks were brought there to sober up. On that fine night, men and women alike, doing strange things with their money, and strange items, and strange dealings, were staring at Jack, who was walking along the beach in the same manner as he would on a rocking ship. He stood in the center of the shoreline, which was broken on each side by jungled trees. Jack waded in the water for a bit, then decided to say different things. Hopefully it would work.

"I call upon Davy Jones." Nothing.

"Davy Jones…Come to me…I need your help to…set my ship free?" Zilch.

"Here, Davy, Davy, Davy!" Nope. He should've figured.

"Davy Jones, come here you _cad_, you little –"

"How _dare_ you summon me! As a _cad_, no doubt!" The shady dealing partners all looked terribly frightened and ran off. "GOOD OF YE TO STAY!"

Jack was still gaping at the creature in front of him that grew to look like the sea…with a squids' face and tentacles for beards, tentacles for fingers on one hand, and crab claws for the other. It was a terrifying sight, and just the thought of him could put a chill in one's bones. Nonetheless, Jack resumed his cheerful appearance.

"What the hell did you want?"

"Well, I'd offer you some calamari, but I take it you don't want to eat your fellow squiddies, eh, tentacle-face?" Jones snarled. "Fine, fine, looks like a friendly ol' chat ain't gonna do us any good."

"It isn't," spat Jones in his unfriendly and cold Scottish accent. "What do you want?"

"I…I want me ship. It's sunk. And it means more to me than anythin' else."

"Not even yer soul?"

"That ship _is_ my soul, mate," said Jack. "An' let me tell you, she's been through a lot, she has."

"Yer ship isn't by chance the _Wicked Wench_, is it?" asked Jones.

"Why? What's it to you?"

"I shall give it back to ye if you give me your soul. Thirteen years as Captain of yer ship, and ye shall come, body, ship, and soul, to my Locker, you get it?"

"And if I wish to back out of this deal…as in right now –"

"I'm afraid ye'll come to the locker anyway fer your nasty insults."

"I'll take the ship, then."

Jones stared at him for a while with an evil gleam in his eye, then turned and walked into the sea.

"WHAT ABOUT MY DAMN SHIP?" Jack yelled. Suddenly, as if a storm was ahead, where the water was very deep, it began bubbling, white, and foamy. A mast came out of sea, followed by another mast, and then the body of the ship. It was no longer brown, but black and ghostly. A real ghost ship. It came to Jack faster than any ship had ever sailed in the history of the world.

Jones walked out of the water. "Here's the _Wench_ –"

"No, no," said Jack. "I want it to have a different name."

"Hurry, then," said Jones. "There be a storm in the Arctic, which means more souls fer me ship."

Jack shuddered and thought. What was never made black that came from the ocean? He kept thinking then – _bingo_. "The Black Pearl."

"Unique name, that," said Jones indifferently. Silvery-black letters appeared on the port hull that said _Black Pearl_ on it. "If yeh manage to make yerself a notorious Captain, yer ship will be just as famous."

Jones walked into the water one last time and was gone. Jack swam to his ship and climbed up the rigging. He caressed the helm fondly and looked about gladly.

The _Wench _was back…now more powerful than ever.


	7. The Adventuress

Author's Note: Hello, mates

**Author's Note:** _Hello, mates! I haven't received any reviews on Chapter 6, but that's all right, I'll just wait :) or, rather, maybe I'll just let you review future chapters. Don't need to review all of them, anyway :) Chapter 6 was just my way of getting the _Wench_ back. And I had to throw in some "annoy Davy Jones" things in there – which I will put in my _How to Annoy Pirates and Alienate Yourself _fanfic, haha. Anyway, this is the chapter where things start _moving_. As in, you meet the recurring character I talked about…and a couple of other things that lead to what we today call _Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. _Anyway, I best let you read. Remember to __**review**__ and _**ENJOY**_!!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Seven**

The Adventuress

Jack's new crew had successfully been established, with Bootstrap as First Mate and Raja as Second Mate. Having reached Tortuga, they had decided to drink to their hearts' content, having bombed down their first ship under Jack's command as a pirate for plunder. Jack, however, didn't seem to be enjoying himself quite as much as the others. As they walked through Tortuga to the tavern, the _Faithful Bride_, Jack tried to reason with Bootstrap.

"They were _people_ Bootstrap," said Jack.

"Do you think they really care if _you're_ a person? No, they care that you're a _pirate_."

"Bloody pirates!"

"Why insult yourself?"

"It's all Beckett's fault. That short little man will pay –"

"'Course he will."

Jack groaned. "They're still _people_! An' now they're probably with that ol'…fish-face, wot's 'is name."

"Yeah, yeah. Well, you're a pirate, so think Beckett's on each o' them flagships."

"I feel better already."

Jack finally reached the _Faithful Bride_. The first thing he saw was a large crowd gathered around a table. A table _he_ was not sitting at. He moved closer to get a better look but wasn't granted the sight through the drunken crowd.

"You, sir," said Jack to a man who didn't seem to be quite as drunk as everyone else.

"Yeah?"

"What the blazes is goin' on over… there?"

"Drinkin' contest. Mercedes Shackleton against our usual winner, Jarvis Kirkby."

Jack knew Kirkby, but, "Who the hell is Mercedes Shackleton?"

Someone moved, and Jack got a closer look. It was a beautiful woman who seemed stern and knew what she was doing. She and Kirkby were on another glass. Kirkby lifted the glass and drank it, a hand held to his head. Mercedes drank it in one swift gulp. What happened next was that, mid-sip, Kirkby fell to the ground, asleep.

"I believe I win this match, sirs," said Mercedes proudly. "And I want my money."

"Damn wench," said a man. He turned and left.

"You, sir!" She called to him. "You bet on us! A 'hundred pounds, I wager, if I lost – for me! The money, please."

"No, because you're a silly, stupid girl. And you'll have to fight me for it."

"Very well," she said. She pulled out a pistol and shot him to the floor, without a flinch. Jack shuddered. She grabbed wads of paper out. "Seems he carries thousands on his person." Mercedes left.

Jack ran to follow her. "You! Mercedes!"

She turned with a cold stare. "What?"

Now that Jack had her attention, he didn't know what to say. So he lamely asked, "Why'd you shoot him?"

She grinned. "Planning on arresting me?"

"No," said Jack.

Mercedes rolled her eyes and kept walking in the same direction, tightening the belt on her pants. "Then, I'm sorry, but I have no interest in talking to you."

"Why?"

"You're not involved in a dealing of mine, are you? You don't seem to be… you look too new to harsh life."

"Erm – no," said Jack. He was starting to like his pretty new acquaintance less and less, but no matter, he had to win this small battle. "I don't care, either. I get what I want."

"Really?" she asked with mock interest. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I am the…_infamous_… Captain Jack Sparrow."

Mercedes thought for a couple of moments, narrowing her eyes. Then she popped back into her regular, moody self. "Nope, never heard of you."

She continued on to walk into a private parlour. Jack followed. "You don't look completely Brit, you know."

"Ah, you noticed," she said, counting her new bills. "Well, let's see. Me mum was an Italian _lady_, and me pops was a penniless British drunk. Not quite sure what the hell she saw in 'im. He accidentally shot her when I was two, stupid idiot did."

She leaned forward to grab a coin that rolled off and Jack saw a tattoo of a Ship and Anchor on the part of her chest that showed.

"Caught the tat, 'ave you?" She asked, displeased.

"What do you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well…I mean, you know, for a livin' and whatnot… 'cause I was thinking, tonight –"

Mercedes ripped out a dagger and pierced through Jack's sleeve and on the table – missing his arm by centimeters.

"That was _brilliant_!"

"What're you talking about? I missed," she said. "Not usual that I miss."

Jack gulped.

"I know what you're thinking. I don't do that sort of thing, really," she said coldly, continuing to count her bills. "Two thousand and one pounds, and seven shillings. The bloke didn't know when or where to take 'is money."

Jack looked at her expectantly.

"Fine. I'll tell you," she said. "I do odd jobs, Mister…Sparrow. And that includes the rather lowly profession you here witnessed just moments ago."

"You mean, drinking."

"Yessssss…." She said, continuing off. "Anyway, I am not one to be trifled with and am no one to sit with pathetic men such as yourself who have nothing more in mind than a good night."

"'Scuse me, but I am _not_ pathetic –"

"Then explain to me what on earth you're doing in Tortuga port, here, running around and claiming to be infamous, when none of us have the _slightest_ inkling as to _who the hell you are_."

"I have _much_ more to me than you see, you know."

"Says them all. You're just another one of them pirates," said Mercedes quietly. "Oi, Eve! I want an entire jug!"

"Jug? That's a lot!"

"And I'm Mercedes Regina Shackleton, and I drink no less, Sister." She gave a dazzling smile.

"You already just had one whole amound in a competi – "

"Yes, and that amount was quite mild," she said. Evelyn shrugged and handed her a large jug filled with rum.

"You plannin' on sharing that?" asked Jack greedily. Mercedes merely chugged it down and sighed.

"Does it look like I'm one to do that?" Mercedes pulled her shiv off of Jack's sleeve. "Sorry, mate. I just – I'm a bit wary now's again."

"Ain't we all?" Mercedes smiled – lightly. "You planning on finishing that tale o' yours?" asked Jack. "Seriously, what _do_ you do?"

Mercedes looked around. "You tell this to one person, and I _swear_ I will kill you."

Jack shrugged. He got this threat on a daily basis as of now.

"Right," said Mercedes. "Like I said, I do odd jobs. I don't often get a lot of money for them. But I do get a lot of money for one of my jobs." Upon seeing Jack's eyes, she continued, "And _don't_ ask me about a night _again_, you hear?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Jack, bored of her beating around the bush.

"This job I speak of… I'm an… I'm an assasin."

"Figures," Jack said, snorting. He was actually a little shocke that someone as beautiful as this young woman would commit to killing people for money. _There _are_ better jobs,_ he thought. _Like warming a bed_.

"I know you think I should be doing something else," she said. "I've met your type. Pathetic, egotistical."

"Egotistical? You're the egotistical one here, if I say so."

"Hah!" Mercedes let out. "_Me_, egotistical? What I say is true, and I'll prove you to be one."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then prove it."

"All right. I bet on this two thousand pounds 'ere, that I can beat you in a fencing duel within five minutes with my right hand tied behind my back. And my right arm is my strong arm."

"You think _that's_ a bet? I've trained under them Spanish and Italian fencing _wizards_. If you think you can beat me in _five minutes_, I can beat you in five _seconds_," Jack said.

"That's egotistical for you," she said. She pulled out a little trunk and pulled out random items from it. "Need more room for me money," she explained. Outside of the trunk now lay the carving of a lion on a flat, wooden coin, a couple of grenades, and a long white stick-looking thing.

"Wha's that?" Jack asked. "An' Eve, if you'd be so kind, a pint for me." Eve handed him one, batting her eyelashes. Mercedes rolled her eyes.

"It's a reindeer's shin bone," said Mercedes. "I think I got it in the Arctic."

"You'd go up there?"

"So long as I'm paid for it. Worthless piece of junk, really. I killed some Voodoo priest and thought it was something important. It's just a worthless piece of junk."

"You killed a _voodoo priest_?" asked Jack. "You know who Tia Dalma is?"

"That ugly woman?"

"She ain't ugly," said Jack. "And yes, that's who I'm talking about. And if you tried to kill her the wrath of them 'eathen gods'd be on you!"

"Yeah, yeah. And, make up your mind, erm, _Captain_."

"See these two beads here?" Jack pointed at a red one and a cream-coloured one. "I got these from her to get summat."

"Ah. Supernatural? Or otherwise normal?"

"Supernatural, I'd say… Stone-eyed Sam."

"Mm," said Mercedes.

"I'll take the reindeer thingy."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, throwing it at him. He tied it above his bandana. "_Why_ do you do that?"

"What?"

"It's gotta be heavy, don't it?"

"Not _your_ problem, is it, Mercedes?"

She raised her eyebrows, annoyed. "Who _are_ you?" she asked.

"Well, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, son of Meenakshi and Captain Johnathon Edward Teague, Pirate Lord of Madagascar."

Mercedes let go of her shiv, which landed on the table, her jaw dropped. "_You're_ Teague's son? And 'ere I was thinkin' you ter be some sorta cheap knockoff."

"You don't even _know_ me," Jack muttered, more or less to himself.

"Yeah, well, neither do no one," said Mercedes. "I hear yer father is after you. Wants to give you something, I'll warrant."

"Probably a beatin'."

"Yeah, well," said Mercedes. "You keep that shin bone, mate. I have a feeling we'll meet in the future, you in your same egotistical, pathetic position. You won't trust me, and good for you, because you shouldn't."

It was now Jack's turn to roll his eyes, which he did with relish. "You'll see, mate, it'll be _you_ who's pathetic, you little –"

"Ah, ah, ah," said Mercedes, holding her shiv to his neck. "No insults, no blood. Fair and square."

She turned and left into the night. Jack shook his head. "BOOTSTRAP!" Bootstrap wasn't in the tavern. Jack almost left the tavern when he heard, in another private parlour…something more interesting than anything he had heard that night. He hid behind a rather large, towering plant to listen.

"Yes, that's righ', the old chest, what wiv' eight hundred an' eighty 'free pieces o' gold, or summat," he heard. It was a gruff voice, the voice of someone who sounded incredibly familiar yet strangely unkown.

"Eight eighty three? Naw, can' be. Them aztecs warn't rich 'nuff, were they?"

"You're an idiot, Guffin," said the first, gruffy gold. "I know where the gold lies…and all of the other treasure what belonged ter Cortez himself."

_The infamous cursed gold, innit?_ Jack thought. _Impossible!_ He wanted it all for himself – the gold would be his – and he would have what he wanted most: immortality.

"Ain' there a curse?" _Yes, you idiot_, Jack thought, although he wasn't entirely sure about the exact tenants of said curse.

"Apparently, if ye steal one bit of the gold, you turn into them undeaddies we call the livin' dead. An' ye can' tell by physical appearance 'less yer in the moonlight," said the gruff voice. "An' on'y I knows where it is."

"No you don't, you only know the name of the _island_, mate," said another voice.

"Big problem. I'll just hop a ship fer it."

"Name me the island, mate, I wants ter _hear_ it."

"It's called…_Isla De Muerta_…"

…_Island of the Dead_, Jack thought. _Not quite literally, o' course, but around it…_

There was only one way to get the treasure, and Jack knew it full well. The Isla De Muerta was a legendary island that was not charted on the maps, and with good reason, now that he learned.

It was time to go upriver.


	8. Upriver

**Author's Note:** _I know that last chapter was a _little_…cheesy. I couldn't give Mercedes justice on paper because of the short amount of time I had. If you can comment and tell me on how you think I could change it, I will gladly oblige. But, here we are, in our newest, most glorious chapter. This chapter, here, is my little beastie. Because we get Jack's new gear. The stuff we all want. Yep, the compass, the heading, and, unfortunately, Barbossa. All in one little package. Remember to read, __**review**__, and enjoy!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Eight**

Upriver

The swamps of Cuba were dark. No light entered through the trees, and on their little boats, the men were all looking about, just in case something came from the shadows. Jack sat at the front of a longboat, his right leg seated on top of a box of papers. None of which he needed at the moment, of course.

They had finally reached the shack at the end of the swamp. Beyond, there was a jungle where it was rumoured no man would come out alive, rather, in a worse state than death. "Make sure that one of ye minds the boats." He pushed through the door.

"Who is it?" asked a loud voice. "Jack Sparrow… a pirate you have become." Jack flared his nostrils. She knew everything about everyone.

"Aye."

"And you want to seek de chest, no?"

"I wish you'd stop doing that."

"I cannot. It is wat I do," said the woman.

"I think an embrace should be in order, Tia," said Jack with a grin. Tia Dalma thrusted herself upon him and hugged him tightly. Jack was choking, unable to breathe.

"Next time, please," said Jack. She nodded.

"I have wat you want," she said, enunciating clearly. "Wat you need, it be in dis box here."

"A compass," said Jack. "You're giving me a compass. Already got one of those, love, don't see 'ow it's gonna help me." He threw out his compass.

"Dis compass you see, it have magical powers, Voodoo. I give it to you for a high price."

"Price? I thought my nights wiv' you were a price!" She gave him a stern glare. "Or…not…"

"It will cost you someting big," she said. "I want no more den someting… much like me."

"I can get you that," said Jack. "I can get you a piece of ol' Cortezzie's gold, eh, what say you to _that_?"

"No," said Tia. "You would have to be cursed for it. No doubt you knew."

"I did," said Jack. "But all that is hogwash."

Tia muttered to herself, but all Jack could catch was 'ignorant' and 'bloody' and 'pirates.'

"Before I say anyting, your father come and talk to me," she said. "He tell me to give you dis." She pushed out a coin on a beaded thread. "A piece… of eight. You are de new Pirate Lord of whichever domain you wish to take, unless someone else own it, no?"

"Say, Tia," said Jack, "Is our lovely little Caribbean Sea 'ere taken? You know, I could do wiv' it."

Tia said yes in a very bored tone.

"Then I, mates, am Pirate Lord of the Caribbean."

"You must ring the piece of eight."

"What the _bloody_ –"

Tia held the piece of eight up in the air and breathed on it. "Only I can do that."

"Erm – right," said Jack. _Why on'y you? 'Cause you're a voodoo woman?_

"No," said Tia Dalma quietly. "Not because I'm a voodoo woman." Jack jumped back. "You know little of me, Jack Sparrow."

"That I will agree with," said Jack.

"You will be written in the Pirata Codex."

"The Pirate law, I gather?"

"Quite," said Tia Dalma. "Teague is the new Keeper of the Code."

"Righ'," said Jack, pulling out his bottle of rum and taking a nice swig. "Now, to the compass, love."

"I will make dis easier for you," she said. "I want fifty thousand pounds."

"_WHAT?_" Jack yelled. "I mean, _what_? No, two thousand."

"Thirty thousand."

"Four thousand, and a…I dunno, trinket."

"No trinkets, twenty thousand."

"Five thousand? Please, Tia, I'm not the rich godly man you think I am, well, I am god-like an' –"

"Five thousand," said Tia Dalma. "How about six thousand, mm?"

"Five thousand."

"Five thousand five hundred."

"Done. You, get me chest," Jack said to a stubby pirate.

"Aye, cap'n," said the stubby pirate, who then turned to a tall lanky one and said, "Ragetti, _you're_ comin wiv' me!" Ragetti rolled his two perfectly good eyes at him and followed.

Eventually the two returned from the first longboat with a brown chest – the trunk Jack had been carrying since he had first left India. "This the one, Cap'n?"

"Yes, dat be de one," Tia answered for him. Jack gave her a pathetic look and so she said, "I will stop, fine."

"Gimme, gimme, gimme," said Jack, snatching the chest from Pintel's stubby fingers. He pulled out five thousand pounds and handed them to Tia. "Now, the compass, if you would, love."

She sighed and handed it to him. A parrot flew out of her small room with the cot to the main room where they were all talking. "What do you say, mm?" She said to the parrot.

"CRAWK!" yelled the parrot.

"Good," said Tia. "Now, listen, Captain Sparrow. You have a big mind for what dis ting will do, no?"

Jack, making no sense of what Tia Dalma said, responded with, "Aye?"

"You must go back to Tortuga and find yourself a ship-less Pirate Lord. His name be Barbossa," she said. Jack rolled his eyes.

"What kind of mother would name 'er son Barbossa?" He said, earning a good round of laughs. Tia, however, as he noticed, had kept a straight face.

"Dis man, he is very treacherous. You haven't seen half of what de world of Piracy can do, and yet you are made a Pirate Lord. Just by being a Pirate Lord, you will not be saved. Only Barbossa knows much about dis… _Isla De Muerta_. And if he no like you, he take you out of his path."

"Erm – Barbossa equals dangerous. Got it," said Jack.

"Now, go," said Tia. "But come back to me when you can."

Jack grinned. "Aye." And then he left. Once she was sure he left, Tia spoke to the parrot.

"What do you say? Dat Jack Sparrow has now joined my enemies… I enjoyed him at de time. But now we must remove him. Do you agree?"

"Wind in the sails! Wind in the Sails!" Retorted the parrot.


	9. The Pirate Lord

**Author's Note:** _I had already written a great version of this chapter, but then the computer went off and __deleted__ it. I'm really quite mad. But that's all right; I'll just __**rewrite**__ it. (I'm a little peeved). Anyway, I hope you get right on and enjoy it, things are picking up a bit and I'll update as much as I can because it's actually getting exciting. I _will_ include the parts where Will and Elizabeth first meet, etc. in future chapters. For now… read, __**review**__, and enjoy!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Nine**

The Pirate Lord

Jack's new compass had led him to Tortuga – to the Faithful Bride. _Figures_, he thought. _Good rum what's stocked here_. He had, instead of looking for old Barbossa right away, decided to fritter away some gold in Singapore for Jia Li and her twin, Min. He hid behind the same plant that he had a year before by the private parlour, where the compass was leading him and snapped it shut and hung it from his belt. "I don't talk ter idiots," said a gruff voice. It was the same voice Jack had heard last time. "So ye best be gone." There was a pistol fire and Jack saw the top part of a body sticking out of the curtain. Jack gulped.

And walked in.

"Who the _hell_ are you?" asked the owner of the gruff voice. Jack looked to see who it was and presumed it was Barbossa. The appearance of this man was so disgusting and yet so frightening. His face was lined with grime and dirt and not one speck of him was clean. Jack could smell him from outside. Of course, Jack couldn't speak on it, seeing as he hadn't taken that many baths or cleaned his teeth as often (but he _did_ clean his teeth, or, as he knew, no one would want to kiss him) since he was branded Pirate.

"Well, mate, if you point that double-barrel down, I shall tell you right now."

"'S a Teague cheap-copy," said a thin man with a fake nose on his face that was held up by a long ribbon.

"Now, now, gents," said Jack. "Let us not point fingers. I am none other than the one and only _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, newly named Pirate Lord of the Caribbean, son of the once-Pirate Lord of Madagascar by the name of Teague what is now Keeper of the Pirata Codex. Now you can speak."

"Ye think I believe you?" asked Barbossa, annoyed. "Well, I don't. Gents, enjoy killing our new friend, Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Ah, but wait, what's this?" Jack's fingers swiftly fumbled around his Piece of Eight.

"Well I'll be damned," said Barbossa, leering at Jack's coin.

"And what's more," said Jack… "I know where the treasure of dear ol' Cortezzie, our ol' friend, lies… Isla De Muerta," continued Jack, "and I know you know that. But only _I_ know how to get there." Jack grinned, knowing he was on the upper hand.

"I'll make ye a deal," said Barbossa. "You tell me how to get there, an' I'll pay ye a 'undred gems, eh?"

"No," said Jack.

"Then state yer terms."

"I want you to join my crew. Under my command," Jack continued, in case Barbossa was one to take things literally and wanted to take over his beloved ship. "Bloody _Black Pearl_, mate! An East Indiaman! Fastest ship in the Carib – no, the _world_!"

"I call First Mate, then," Barbossa said after weighing the odds. Jack shook his head.

"Mate, I can on'y give you Second Mate," said Jack, "seeing as I've already got me own loyal First Mate what's travelled wiv' me since I was age fifteen. Makes 'im more trustworthy." Jack nodded over in Bootstrap's direction.

Bootstrap raised both of his hands in surrender and said, "I ain' comin' in the middle o' two Pirate Lords, I ain'."

"Good for you, lad," said Barbossa. "Looks like I'm yer First Mate, _Cap'n_."

Jack retorted with "We'll have to sail together for a little while, though," said Jack, "just so as I can see 'ow reliable you are, mate. 'Nuff said."

"So it seems."

-o-o-o-

It had been half a year since Barbossa had sailed under Jack's pirate command. Thanks to Barbossa's pushing, Jack bombed down a great many ships and as of yet, their amount of gold plunder was roughly the size of a hull-splitting mountain. They were tired, and their rum supply ran out, so, of course they went off to Tortuga's famous _Faithful Bride_.

As Jack walked through the filled courtyard to the tavern door, his shoulder shoved against someone else's.

"Watch it there, you!" Her voice rang out.

Jack yelled back, "Don't cross _Captain _Jack Sparrow!" He had, after all, become quite notorious by then, what with being the owner of the legendary ghost ship, the _Black Pearl_. Of course, by then, so many stories had circulated about him that he was a mysterious legend, and of course, he always pushed that to his advantage. He did, after all, enjoy the spotlight.

"_What_ did you say your name was?" The woman turned around sharply, her near-black hair whipping out.

"Oh," said Jack said. He remembered her face, but couldn't place her name. He did remember she could be a right scary –

"Bugger, is that you, Sparrow?" she asked, struggling to see him in the crowd. "Blimey, it _is_!"

Jack grinned devilishly, still trying to place her face. Then – "Mercedes," he said, guessing her name.

"Erm, yeah?" she asked. Trying to push through the crowd was a hard one. For some reason, Tortuga was highly filled that day, but Jack hadn't a clue as to why. Mercedes pulled out her sword in one hand and her pistol in the other. "RIGHT! LET ME MOVE THROUGH OR I CUT OR SHOOT ANYONE IN ME PATH, YOU HEAR?" she yelled. The crowd moved to make a path for her. "Good."

"Nice to see you after all this… time…"

"A year and a half, I figure," Mercedes said. "Where'd you get the white thing?" She pointed, nearly laughing at his look of utter confusion.

He straightened up and said, "I killed a Voodoo priest…"

Finally they went inside the tavern and she said, "You know, Captain Sparrow, I've been hearing stories about you. Let me give you an example… Nassau Port. They say you raided it without firing a single shot and not _one_ of your men had died out there."

"Yes, well, you know how great I am," Jack said. Mercedes punched his chest. Jack held it in pain and shock. "Who _knew_ a woman could hit so hard?"

"Only I could," she said. "Remember, I'm a warrior, Jack."

"An assassin, more like."

"Shut up. Anyway, I'm trying to say… I just – I don't believe in any of them stories. I think you're too pathetic –"

"Yes, well, with Barbossa as me First Mate, it's hard _to_ be pathetic."

"_Barbossa_?" she asked. "You're a _fool_ to strike a bargain with him!"

"I'm not any fool, mate, I'm _Captain_ –"

"Jack Sparrow, I know," she said, annoyed. "Still egotistical. Listen to me, Jack. That Barbossa, he isn't anywhere near trustworthy."

Jack knew that, after all, he had seen Barbossa's suddenly growing infatuation with his ship. "I know that."

"Then _why_ –"

"I'm going after the treasure of _Cortes_, all right?" Jack blurted out. She straightened up.

"Oh," she said. "That's smart."

"Is it?"

"No. But whatever," said Mercedes. "I just wanted to tell you – I don't believe one of those stories, not one bit. Like I said last time, you're too new to this harshness –"

Jack pulled up his sleeve and showed her the branding mark. Mercedes stared.

"How's about I _tell_ you the Nassau Port story, the way it happened," said Jack.

"I don't know…" she trailed off. "You better tell me the truth. I am _not_ one to be lied to."

"Trust me, I should know," Jack said, seeing Mercedes's hand wrapped around her dagger. He leaped upon the biggest table and stood up. "ALL YOU HERE TO HEAR THE STORY OF THE INFAMOUSLY NOTORIOUS _and charming_," Jack added, "_CAPTAIN_ JACK SPARROW – YOU ALL COME HERE!"

A few ladies came by, batting their eyelashes. Mercedes scowled. A few men, too, presumably after the ladies, showed up. "Righ'." Mercedes gathered more people – less of them prostitutes – and stood in front of Jack, her hands crossed in front of her chest.

"Righ'," Jack said, deciding to fabricate the story right then and there. He already knew that people said something about him going to Nassau and all the crew leaving alive. "Now, this here story I'm telling you is the one where I, _the_ Captain Jack Sparrow, went to Nassau Port.

"See, we were all on a treasure hunt, of sorts. Our crew had grown pretty big – big enough to fill all decks with sleeping men. Anyway, me first mate, Barbossa – you all know who he is, don't you? He's the bloke over there, eatin' an apple – anyways," Jack continued, "The Scraggle-beard bloke tells me of a bit o' precious treasure. I, o' course, know _everythin'_ about findin' hidden treasure wha's evasive to most of mankind, 'cause I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, an' I'm trained, very well, in findin' things with Voodoo."

Of course, Jack was telling the truth, in ways, but he so perfectly "forgot" to mention his compass. And with good reason: he hadn't wanted any stealing of it.

"Anyway, I says to Barbossa, I says to 'im, 'Look here, mate, if it's in the Port o' Nassau tha' this 'ere special treasure is, then, by all means we shall go there.' So, o' course, when we get there, I tell the men, 'Let us leave our guns here, gentlemen, so we can show them Navy how fear-inspiring we are. Then, when they meet us once more, we shall have a right amount of fearful suits huddled in the corner. Because without guns, we scare them a whole lot, an' with guns, we scare 'em more.' So o' course we go in an' raid. An' me, bein' as trained as I am with me Voodoo, well, I go out and and search. O' course, I 'ad about five Navy officers, an' a couple of East India Company grunts on me, me bein', o' course, on the top o' their wanted list an' posters. So I pulled out my sword an' said to 'em, 'Gentlemen, you are armed wiv' guns, eh? Well, prepare to face me wrath wiv' naught but a sword!' An' with all celerity – you know wha' celerity is, don't you all? It's French for speed – anyway, I disengaged 'em all and in a couple of hacks and slashes, they got to see their Lord earlier than they thought.

"My Voodoo told me to go to that there jungle by the Fort Kingston, so there I go, an' wiv' good haste. I could feel the treasure goin' up into me brain an' knew righ' then it was close. 'Course, it was. I felt a niche in one of 'em trees and broke it down after a good five swings. And there, inside the tree – what was hollow, mind – was the treasure. All the way through. So I grabbed a couple o' bags, swung to, and filled. Large enough, I thought. An' therefore, I had nabbed the treasure wha' men searched for, you know, for centuries. I called to all me men, who 'ad been raidin' the town wiv'out their guns, and o' course, all of 'em came back, alive, and dead square. And so we all went back on our ship, me yellin' at them surprised Navy members and East Indy idiots, I yelled, 'Gentlemen, you will always remember this as the day that you almost caught _Captain Jack Sparrow_!' And then, o' course, we were off. And that, my friends, is the true story of Captain Jack Sparrow's adventure in Nassau Port." Jack heaved a sigh and sat down on the table, grinning proudly at the beautiful Mercedes, hoping she'd say something.

And she did say something, after raising her eyebrow. "It's a _bit_ believable," she said, after pushing off the wenches, who began purring (slightly) and pawing at Jack's feet. The rest of the crowd was scared away by her hand-grenade. "But I still want to know one thing: how did you become a pirate?"

Jack grumbled.

"Sorry?"

"I don't share tha' with people," he said. _Ruinin' me reputation, that's wha' I'd be doin'_, Jack thought.

"Come _on_, Jack!" Mercedes pushed. "If you _ever_ want me tr –"

"Yes, I _do_," said Jack, not letting her finish the sentence. "You will come to my side, Mercy, I know it." He wrapped his hand around her shoulder and pulled her close.

"What did you call me?" she asked Jack with an incredulous look, pulling herself away from him slightly so they wouldn't be so close. He shrugged.

"Love, I shall tell you the story if you promise me something –"

"Depends on what it is."

"You will come wiv' me on me ship." She nodded. Jack swaggered to their private parlour where they sat a year and a half before. She sat across him.

"Bu' first," Jack said… "EVEY, LOVE! A WHOLE STOCK FOR ME CREW AN' I! WE NEED IT!" Evelyn was now attending to their table. "An' I'd like meself a bottle an' a jug 'ere for Mercedes." She nodded, once more giggling and batting her eyelashes and got them their things.

"It's me best stock o' rum," said Evelyn, pointing at the three large crates she wheeled there. "Nice 'n strong." Then she pushed a jug harshly at Mercedes, and softly gave Jack his bottle.

"Thank you, Sister," said Mercedes. Jack gave her a surprised look.

"You're sisters?"

"No, we're not," said Evelyn. "But don't ask, you'll get a headache." Mercedes shooed her off.

"I will find out someday," said Jack. "Now…I can on'y say bits 'n' pieces of it. I was fifteen, I think. Yeah, tha' was it. I worked for this little idgit named Cutler Beckett. 'E was a short, short devil, an' by devil I don't mean frisky lover, 'cause tha' woul' be jus' nasty, just thinkin' of the feelin' I ain' feelin', and wha' I think on'y a blin' woman migh' be feelin', 'cause I'm sure 'is own mummy didn' like 'im, bu' jus' the same, by devil, I mean little freak."

Mercedes nodded. "Move on with it," she said.

"Anyway," Jack continued, "I sold me services to 'im, bein' a merchant an' all. After me first voyage, usin' me dad's ol' ship, the _Intruder_, me dad came an' told me tha' me mum was dead… an' I found out me dad was a pirate. I hated pirates – I thought of 'em as nasty little bleeders –"

"And yet you turned pirate and so is your father," Mercedes said with her lip curled.

"Shut up," he said, channelling her spirit. "Let me continue." Mercedes lifted her hands up so as to say _Don't look at _me_, I didn't do anything_. "Now, as consolation, ol' pops Teague gave me the ship wha' is now called the _Black Pearl_, on'y, in ligh' of 'em recent events, I called it the _Wicked Wench_, partly after me mum, and partly after me smar' brain, bein' wha' it is, of course, I've always been a clever one –"

"And then you…"

"Well, an' then I did more quests for Beckett. Went to Spain, Scandinavia, even _Singapore_," Jack said, his eyes aglow. "Hauled in thousands o' pounds from 'im, an' sometimes I even nicked a few gems from the quests. 'E never noticed. Along the way, I met Tia Dalma, the Voodoo priestess. She was a righ' fire in the –"

"Don't want to know," Mercedes said, covering her ears. She let go and said, "Go on."

"Anyway, she gave me a lot of Voodoo-ed things, I migh' say. These beads," Jack said, once again pointing at his hair, "were used to unlock the eye of Stone-Eyed Sam, o' course. An' these here beads," he said, pointing at his beard, "were from 'er to hold 'em in place. Said it was right foul annoyin'. She also gave me these 'ere," pointing at his Kuchi beads, "when I defeated some Anglo-Indian privateer wha' was an enemy of ol' Beckett. Then, o' course, came that day.

"Beckett got 'imself a new henchman, some ugly Irish bloke or… something, name was, Mister –"

"Mercer," replied Mercedes. "He used to deal with my cousin."

"Ah," said Jack. "Well, what's more, is, 'e tol' me tha' ol' Beckett wanted me to go an' retrieve some cargo from the Ivory Coast. Then I was to bring the cargo to 'im at Port Royal, 'ere. So, o' course, I goes down there, an' to me utter shock, the cargo turns out to be slaves. Men, women, children, even those withchild. All of 'em, different ones, though, had lashmarks. Poor people. So I told 'em I'd set 'em free. _No one_ deserves tha' fate they were destined for. I let 'em off at Mauritania. I 'ad no idea, course, tha' Beckett's spies'd see me.

"So I went down to Port Royal, you know, to discuss me situation wiv' Beckett. I wanted ter tell 'im, I'd pay 'im back, I jus' didn't want to do nothin' wiv' slaves. O' course, when I got there, Beckett, the little idgit, pounces an' brands me. Then, he burns down me beloved ship. I ran aboard it, though after escapin' from jail, righ' when me quarters were gonna burn, an' pulled my treasure an' trunk an' ran away. My chest, o' course, has all that's left o' my mum – an' _not_ 'er body, no, but 'er picture and book, an' stuff. O' course, I humiliated Beckett 's well, bu' I shoulda done it in public, wha' with me makin' 'im dance by shootin' at 'is feet. A year, I spent, runnin' from the navy, all upset, wishin' me ship was back. I was a downright drunken deadbeat. Until, o' course, one day, I caugh' someone, 'ere in Tortuga, talkin' about 'ow dead people at sea go to Davy Jones's Locker. I didn' even know if there _was_ a Davy Jones, but I didn't care. I went to the sea an' tried to summon 'im. Which I did, thankfully. An' 'e lifted me ship up. It was all black, then, not Mahogany no more, 'cause of the fires what licked it. An' then I decided it would be called wha' came from the sea an' yet couldn't ever be black: the _Black Pearl_. It was also the fastest ship in the world, thanks to Jones. But there was a catch – I owed 'im me soul thirteen years from that day. I 'ave about eleven and a half years left, I reckon. Then, a couple days pass, I met you. An', well, you know…"

Mercedes sat, silent. Jack held his hand to his head, firstly from re-experiencing Beckett, and secondly from a small hangover.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she said, finally. "I didn't – I couldn't know, of course, but –"

"So you're on my side, then," Jack said slowly with a grin.

Mercedes looked at his hopeful eyes for a few moments. "I'm not sure about your definition, Captain, but yes, I am in your trust. And on your ship. But nothing more than a friend…yet."

Jack could see her eyes lingering on him. _She loves me, I know it,_ he thought to himself. Mercedes said nothing.

"But, excuse me," she said. "I must go and play some cards if I'm to get more money." She grabbed her trunk and went over to play BlackJack with Jack's crew and other people. She was the only woman there.

Jack sighed and put his books on the table, leaning against the booth back, lulling himself to sleep.

He hadn't got any in weeks. But, now he was sure he would, what with a nice emptying of his bottle of anger and a new voyage to take him out to sea.


	10. Aztec Gold

**Author's Note:** _I resolve not to write that many of Jack's stories from Jack's mouth per chapter – really, it took a while to figure out what he was saying, I mean, me being the writer and all, I was having trouble decoding what __**I**__ wrote from Jack's point of view! Nonetheless, you shall learn it all :) and yes, I will be telling you how Ragetti lost his eye. Proud of you for noticing that he had both eyes intact in Chapter Eight! And as for Chapter Eight, we also saw Mr. Cotton's Parrot… when Cotton indeed wasn't around… Anyway, best get on with our lovely __**Chapter TEN!**__ Finally, we've reached the double-digits, and we're doing quite well. Oh – and I have yet to get reviews for Chapter Nine, but no matter :) Anyway, I best get us running, we're near the mutiny… Aww, poor Jack! Read, __**review**__, and enjoy – I really hope you do!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Ten**

Aztec Gold

Mercedes, it seemed, made a good crewmember. So good, in fact, that her planning helped Jack pull in more plunder than usual. Jack had been trying – desperately – to woo Mercedes and pull her to _him_, and she did seem more comfortable – and much less cold – to him, but she was in no way a flame of his. She didn't come close, not yet, but Jack kept his hopes up.

Alas, Mercedes had said she needed to see her brother (Jack hadn't a clue he existed), and so Jack, feeling all glum about it, dropped her off at an Island with a volcano named Padres Del Fuego, where she told him her brother lived in a shack, ever since he was attacked by the Navy. Raja, too, got off, saying he needed a break from piracy.

Jack then decided, to keep his mind off of Mercedes, to look for the treasure of Cortes. "Barbossa, mate!" he yelled. Barbossa sauntered into sight from the Captain's Quarters.

"Aye!"

"Fetch the strongest sails, get the crew to post 'em up. We're going to the Island of the Dead."

-o-o-o-

The crew travelled through storms and and untimely weather, until, finally, they had reached a clearing.

"Cap'n!" yelled Barbossa. "How far be the dreaded _Isla De Muerta_, eh? Where does it lie?"

"Not far from here. Jus' in a _that-way_ direction," said Jack, pointing in the distance.

"Ah, well, that's best not be tampered with, eh?" Barbossa said. "With our speed, we'll get there in a couple hours, now."

"Too true," said Jack, "too true. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be off in me cabin."

An hour passed, maybe two, and Jack was quietly reading about the treasure of Cortes – something he would soon have in his two soft hands. Excited, he was, to feel the pieces of gold in Cortes's hidden island, to use the gems that would be in his lair, when finally, Barbossa walked in. "Everything's an equal share, eh, Cap'n?"

"Aye," said Jack. "I'll take same amount as you. No fightin' for it, anyways, you know how I don' like it."

Barbossa rolled his eyes.

"Have we come by the island yet?"

"Yes, in fact."

Jack walked out and saw something. "Ah," he said, and pointed. "See that, over there?" He pointed at a large rock sitting in the middle of the ocean. "We reach that, we turn west, and we get about. We'll get ol' Cortes's treasure, soon enough."

Jack swaggered back to his quarters. "What're _you_ lookin' at?" he said to another dreadlocked man, whose skin was black but had yellow markings. The man shrugged and turned away.

-o-o-o-

"Captain!" Pintel walked into the Quarters, shaking a bit, with his skinny friend Ragetti.

"What can I do for you?"

Ragetti was wincing, holding his right eye tightly. "It was the First Mate, sir, Barbossa! He pulled out me eye!"

Ragetti let go of his eye and Jack covered his. It was a ghastly sight, bloody, and disgusting, but Jack kept his cool. "Wash it with this," he said, pushing out a barrel of water. "And then put this on top," said Jack, handing him an eyepatch. "Should 'elp. I'll go talk to Barbossa."

Jack intended to give Barbossa a piece of his mind, what with maiming the crew that way without his orders. When he went outside, it was a different matter.

The Bo'sun and another large man, Porttocks, grabbed Jack's arms and bound his hands behind his back. "Ah, Mister Sparrow, good of ye to join us," said a drawling, gruff voice.

"Barbossa, what the _bloody hell _is –"

"Ch, ch, none of that, now," said Barbossa. "You see, yer pacifism ain't doin' you much good. Yeh gave us the bearins', and we be thankin' ye for it. But now, we thinks it's time to take you away from us. Yer nothin' but a slow coward."

"SHUT UP!" Jack yelled. He looked to his left and saw a downcast Bootstrap Bill, looking at his feet. "Bootstrap?"

He shook his head.

"HOW COULD YOU? HOW COULD ALL OF YOU?" Jack yelled.

"We're _pirates_, Jack," said Barbossa. "An' you've been nothing but a ninny."

"SHUT UP! YOU CAN'T TAKE ME OFF MY OWN SHIP!"

"Why, yes, we can," said Barbossa. "Tis called mutiny, and, my good friend, it's what's happenin' to ya."

Jack shuddered as Barbossa said, "Give me his pistol, gents! And his hat we can burn."

"NO!"

"No? All right," said Barbossa, "we'll throw it after ya. If the sharks don't maul it first."

Barbossa unloaded his pistol and stuck but one shot in it. He emptied Jack's powder horn into the water and put it back, with the pistol, onto his belt. "Now untie him," said Barbossa. "Ye see, Jack, I'm a Pirate Lord. Which means, a Pirate Lord does not go wantin' of a ship, do ye see?"

Jack pulled out his pistol, then put it back in.

"A wise choice. Ye'll be needin' it on yer course o' starvation, innit?" Jack punched Barbossa in the face. "ON THE PLANK, YOU IDGIT!"

The Bo'sun pushed Jack onto the plank. He looked back into Bootstrap's eyes, and said, "I trusted you." Barbossa, tired of Jack, threw his hat overboard. Jack leaped in after it. Since it was floating, Jack held it to his side and swam off to the island on the side.

-o-o-o-

Jack sat, vexed, annoyed, angered, and quite upset. He stared into the horizon, where he saw _his beloved ship_ sailing into the distance.

"What shall we do, eh, Jackie?" he said to himself. "Oh, I don't know, maybe…not invite Barbossa to our Garden Party… Sounds just grand, Jackie. Hey, Barbossa, we're having a Garden Party, and _you're_ not invited!"

Jack was seeing replicas of himself around the beach. It had been a day, he was hungry, he was _thirsty _– of course, for rum – and he was already going mad. _Seeing meself ain't good_, thought Jack, _but at least I'll 'ave company_.

Jack had a mind to get off the island – he was sure that he'd be able to. And then, he'd use that very shot Barbossa gave him to kill him.

If, of course, the curse didn't work. If it did, then Jack would find a way to reverse it.

"'Ello Jack!" Jack said, "'Ello, Cap'n!"

He continued: "What say you we go about and kill Barbossa, eh, what say you to _that_?"

His "multiple" said: "I say it's a grand idea, mate, only, what say you we _torture_ 'im first, then kill 'is crew, then punch ol' Bootstrap in the face –"

Jack retorted, to himself: "I like that even better than me own original idea, mate. And what of you, Jackie?"

Another "multiple" said: "I say we do all that, shoot Barbossa, and break the bones o' that annoying monkey o' his!"

Jack said: "You mean, the one he bought at Padres?"

The same multiple responded: "That's the one, Jackie, perfectly simple. That thing is a bothersome little –" at this point the multiple began cursing loudly, and if one was to write the string of words he said, they would be forced to not write stories that were all right for the younger generations to read.

Jack said: "So is Barbossa."

At this point, the three agreed with "Ayes."

Another hour passed, and Jack could hear his stomach rumbling loudly. He decided to walk through the small growth of trees to find food. He was quite delirious, which would probably explain why he ran into a tree. The sound it emitted, however, was that of a hollow tree. Jack immediately let go of his hallucinations and said, more or less to himself, "That's weird." He walked about to each tree and felt – they weren't hollow. Jack went back to the hollow tree and looked about.

Then, he saw it. There was a giant wooden door on the floor – one which would take him to some underground cellar. "Well, I'll be damned… this is Rumrunner's Isle!" He looked closely – there was a strange carving on the door. He realized it said something in crude handwriting… "This…is…Black Sam's…Spit."

He said it a couple of times in his head.

"All right, this is Black Sam's Spit, also known as a Rumrunner's Isle," he said outloud. "Means the rumrunners should be back soon."

Jack opened the door and walked down. There were torches up and they were burning fine. Along the wall, there were the long-shaped bottles – the ones Jack liked. To the side, there were strangely shaped bottles. Jack decided to try one of those. He didn't find any food in the room, though. He got out many pieces of wood that he found laying around on the island, and on the shore, using one of the torches, burned the wood, and made a bonfire. He then lay by the warmth and drank to his heart's content. He knew he'd have to come up with a better story than the one he was going through…

…but he'd wait for later to do that. Captain Jack Sparrow was a captain no more.


	11. Rescue

Author's Note: Hey guys, we're on Chapter Eleven

**Author's Note: **_Hey guys, we're on Chapter Eleven! I'm getting to a point where I have to beg for reviews – I really don't know what you think (and it's killing me! Ahh!)! If you think it sucks, go right on ahead and say so. If you think it's great, then, by all means, use your celerity and hurry up and tell me! :) Anyway, some more stuff coming now… So please read, __**review**__, and enjoy!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Eleven**

Rescue

It was the third day on Black Sam's Spit. The moment Jack woke up, he used a giant stick from the dead fire and drew a long, deep gash through the beach. It was the third tally out of three tally marks. _And the more of 'em there are, the less of 'em I'll have_, thought Jack. _Bugger_.

Jack wasn't drunk, no, that wasn't the problem. The problem was, his swagger was permanent, and he was constantly swinging around as he tried to talk – even if it was to himself.

Jack decided that, having strewn his items all over the beach – his coat, his boots, his hat, and his personal effects (gun, compass, whatnot) – it was time to go for a hunt, saving the rum stock as the last item on his scavenging list. He found everything, and in addition, he found bags and bags of gold lying about under the hollow tree.

Having decided to use the bags as bait for a barter with a rumrunner for a ride on his ship, Jack went around knocking more trees, should he have been able to find more gold for himself. _Knock, knock_… "Nope." _KNOCK. _"Not this one, Jackie… I _know_!"

_Knock, bang, hit_ – _CRASH!_ Seven melons fell from the top, one of them hitting Jack on the head. "Haha," he said, and fell to the ground.

-o-o-o-

Jack woke up at the foot of a tree, with seven or so melons laying around him, and a rather furious looking man leaning over him. "Oh… bugger," said Jack.

"Bugger's righ'! OI, TOM! LOOK WHA' I FOUND 'ERE!"

Another man sauntered into the scene. "Who are you and how the hell did you get here?"

"The name is _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, and some bastard named Barbossa stole me ship and marooned me 'ere. Now, if you'd be so kind, I'll pay you for a ride on your ship. Much obliged, I'd be."

Tom looked at the other man and they both nodded. "Give us the money, and you can get on."

Jack, not believing his luck, handed the sacks to the men.

"You're a _thief_!"

"No' just any thief," said Jack, "but a Pirate Lord."

"Well, then, it'll be _our_ pleasure killin' ye, _Pirate Lord_," said the first man.

"Mack," said Tom, "There'll be no killing… not yet, anyway. This man has paid us back. So, it seems he may get aboard."

Mack looked confused, but Jack saw an evil glint in Tom's eye. He gulped, but accepted it. "Thank you _very much_, mate. I assure you, I will not –"

"Just shut up and get on the ship," said Tom, who then turned to Mack and whispered, "'E's got a two-fifty pound worth on 'is head. Bes' we turn 'im in at Kingston, eh?"

Mack nodded. Jack caught every word, but pretended to walk off and aboard the _Deliverance_.

There were men unloading rum and pushing it into the cache, and taking more sacks of gold from another hollow tree directly across from the one Jack had stolen from. Finally, they had set sail.

As Jack soon learned, the rumrunners had a fair share of wenches on board, all of whom stayed in the Captain's Quarters if not a lower deck. Jack decided to take advantage of the seemingly pleasurable trip (and escape at the end, no doubt) by staying in their company.

"Hello, my dear and beautiful ladies… 'ave you ever heard of Captain Jack Sparrow?"

And so he told them stories, for hours or so, until Mack walked in. "…An' so, I 'ad the _Black Pearl_ raised up from the depths by _Davy Jones_ 'imself. Looks like a nasty bugger in real life, I swear by it. 'E looks like a squid. I did offer 'im some calamari, bu', of course, 'e took tha' to offence."

"I wonder why?" said Mack loudly. "We've reached Kingston, _Lordie_. Get out."

Two of the women bent down and kissed Jack softly as he got up to leave. "You shall all see me once more," he said as he left.

Once he was out, however, Mack said, "Yeah, yeah, we'll see about that." Jack punched Mack in the face and swung on the deck rope onto the port, where he immediately stood behind a stone wall, his gun extended. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this will be the day that you always remember as the day that you _almost_ caught Captain Jack Sparrow!" Jack grinned at what he just said and ran off in his swagger-ish style through the town. "Ah, a tavern," he said to himself. Upon reaching the inside, he held a hand to his head and sighed. "_Safe_."

He looked about and saw a table playing poker. "Mind if I join?" he said. Not waiting for a reply, he sat down and was dealed some cards. "Righ'. I'll call."

"Bet."

"Raise…ter twelve."

"Call, again, mate," Jack said.

"Check, then."

"Check."

"Check," and so it went on, until Jack won a few rounds – with enough gold to get him through a year.

"Cheers, mates," said Jack, until one of them, a slightly black woman, stood up.

"Hang on there, you!" she said. Jack turned slowly, afraid that she'd turn him in. "Aren't you Jack Sparrow?"

"Erm – yes," said Jack.

"Anna-Maria," said the woman, extending a hand. "I want to join your crew."

"I'd be much obliged if you did, Anna-Maria," said Jack, "But things seem to be that… well, I'm not in position of the _Black Pearl_ anymore. Thank ol' Barbossa for that."

"So the man dropped you _here_?"

"No, 'e marooned me," said Jack. "'O course, with me wonderful skills, I managed to get off the island all in one piece…"

-o-o-o-

A young twelve-year-old girl stood at the bow of the _Dauntless_, waiting very much to finally reach the Caribbean. She was in love with the lore of pirates – the very embodiment of her fantasy world – and she knew that it was in the Caribbean, where her father, the soon-to-be Governor, and she were headed, that pirates were most abundant. She was singing, softly, to herself, the song that her late mother taught her. "…We pillage, we plunder, we rifle we loot. Drink up, me 'earties yo ho! We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot… drink up me 'earties yo ho!" She was surprised that no one had stopped her, yet, but happy enough for that, she tarried on… "We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack, drink up –"

A hand grabbed her shoulder. She gasped, surprised. She looked up to see the man born old, Joshamee Gibbs, leaning over her shoulder. "Quiet, missy! _Cursed_ pirates sail these waters! You don't want ter bring them _down_ on us now, do ya?"

-o-o-o-

"An' you, sailor, you want to join the crew of _Captain_ Jack Sparrow?"

"Yes, sir," said a skinny, bald man. "I should very well hope so. I have been kicked off of the Navy –"

"Good enough," said Jack. "Now, all we need is a _ship_…"

"Pray, tell, Captain," said the bald man. "Was your ship not the _Black Pearl_?"

"It's _still_ me ship, mate, always will be, and that Barbossa'll pay deep in Hell!"

"Pardon me saying, sir," said the bald man once again, "that I heard Barbossa cannot be killed! My own brother, who was in the Navy, told me this."

"_What_?" yelled Jack. _'E got the treasure_, he thought. _The bloody treasure o' Cortes. Course, can't trust these lowlifes, gotta see for yerself, Jackie_. "Erm – I mean, forget that. Now, Miss Anna-Maria, if you'd be so kind… find me a ship to commandeer."

-o-o-o-

There was a knock on the Captain's Quarter door, followed by the entrance of a sorry-faced man. "Barbossa," he said. "I – I can' handle it no more."

"Handle _what_ no more, Turner?" asked Barbossa.

"Come out here," said Bootstrap, intending on pushing Barbossa overboard. Barbossa followed. The entire crew was gathered.

"We're cursed men, Barbossa, you know that. We spent money, aye," said Bootstrap. "An' we got ourselves some nice profits."

At this, the crew laughed and nodded, remembering their warm beds and food and drink.

"Are you intendin' on tellin' me how ter fix this up? 'Cause, mind you, we need to return the gold the chest… with our blood," said Barbossa, thinking aloud. "And for that matter, _no one_ tells me what ter do!"

"I ain't sayin' nothing, except that what we did to Jack wasn't right," said Bootstrap slowly. "He got a fate he didn't deserve, Barbossa, but what you did."

"An' yet you stood idly, twiddling your thumbs through the whole thing," Barbossa said. "Pity that."

"Aye, pity that indeed," said Bootstrap. "You're a right foul_ bastard_ what pushed us inter this mess an' now yer gonna have no way of fixin' it!"

"'Course I will," said Barbossa. "Startin' with each crewmember's gold coins, then goin' out to find the rest of 'em tha' we frittered. Startin' with _you_."

"Ah, yes, well yer gonna have a tough time o' doin' it yerself," said Bootstrap. "I sent me on'y piece to me child."

"_WHY YOU_ –" Barbossa began, but then thought better of it. "You, stubby man 'ere," he pointed at Pintel. "Get me a cannon."

Pintel and Ragetti giggled at this, running off to drag one up. "'E's gonna shoot 'im!"

"No 'e ain't, you idgit, 'e's gonna shoot him _outta the cannon_."

"No, Barbossa's more evil. 'E'll shoot 'im wiv' the cannon, then shoot 'im outta the cannon."

"Makes sense to me!"

Once they brought the cannon back, Barbossa grinned at the tied-up Bootstrap Bill that stood before him. "You're an idiot, Bootstrap Bill Turner. And now, you'll be goin' to the depths… with a cannon strapped to your bootstraps, Bootstrap."

Pintel and Ragetti stopped laughing. "You told me 'e was gonna shoot 'im outta the cannon!"

"An' you said –"

"_Shut up_," Barbossa snarled. Bootstrap was dragged, tied to the cannon, to the side of the ship.

The last thing they heard Bootstrap say as he was pushed off the ship was "I'm sorry, Jack."

-o-o-o-

A boy that the young girl spotted in the water was now lying down on a plank of wood in the midst of everything going on. The girl's father addressed her as he went to go secure things – pirates had invaded the area, and he did not want her to get her obsessions in the way of a life-threatening event. "Elizabeth," he said, "I want you to accompany the boy. He'll be in _your_ charge. Take care of him."

Elizabeth nodded politely and walked to the young boy, who seemed to be not much older than she. His good looks were not lost in her eyes. She traced his wet hair with her hand, until he woke up, scared, and choking, grabbing her arm. "It's all right," she said. "My name is Elizabeth Swann," she said kindly, with a smile.

"W-W-Will Turner," the boy stuttered. Just when he was going to tell her more, he fell back.

"I'm watching over you, Will," she said. He fainted. She looked closer and saw a medallion. _Oh dear_, she thought, a little frightened. "You're a p-pirate!" _What will father say now? I shan't tell him…_

"Has he said anything?" asked the handsome young lieutenant who was not more than six years older than she.

"His name is William Turner… that's… all I found out," she said. Norrington nodded with a smile.

"Take him below."

Elizabeth walked to the port bow, where no one was nearby, and examined the medallion. She turned it over and saw strange Aztec designs. When she looked up, she saw a ship with the black flag flying at its mast.

"PIRATES!" yelled a voice. The _Dauntless_ turned, facing its newly-loaded port guns to the black ship.

"IT'S THE _BLACK PEARL_!" screamed another. Elizabeth, pushed by her father, went below decks to sit with Will, who was now wrapped in blankets and warm pads.

-o-o-o-

Jack was sure that there was something wrong. His compass wasn't pointing one way, rather, it moved to the left, and then to the right. _I know what I want_, he thought.

But in truth, he really didn't.


	12. Jolly Roger

Author's Note: Forgot to put a disclaimer on all previous chapter, so here: I don't own any of the characters, settings, and th

**Author's Note:** _Forgot to put a disclaimer on all previous chapter, so here: I don't own any of the characters, settings, and themes from Pirates of the Caribbean. All original characters in this story belong to me. I _want _to own Jack Sparrow, but of course, which female doesn't? Haha… Now, onward: thanks for the reviews, and I'm not greedy, but I __**do**__ need more, what with not having any in the past few days for the past few chapters. Ahh! Anyway, I'll keep my wait and trudge through our beautiful Jack's story, so you all can see what happened next! After all, we _are_ a little further into _**Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl**_! Now, do read, __**review**__, and most importantly, _**ENJOY!!**

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Twelve**

Jolly Roger

The crew of the _Devil's Slave_, named by a rather bored Jack Sparrow who, at the time, had his mind filled with thoughts of his debt to Davy Jones, had sailed to a small island called Rambleshack, where there were few structures, the two biggest being a prison and a large tavern owned by a certain man Jack's father had often mentioned in the past by the name of Doggerel Dan (of course, at the time, Jack believed that, like his father, he was an honest merchant – soon, he learned that he was just as much of a pirate as anyone).

Rambleshack's rum was infamous among pirates – its sweet taste could lure anyone – or any_thing_ – to its mere presence. Upon reaching the tavern, Jack sat down, tired, ready to plot out a new course at sea – there was a fabled treasure that he was sure would help him beat Barbossa out. However, he wasn't quite sure what this treasure was, and all his compass took him to was this godforsaken spit of land.

"You, pirate," yelled a voice from the back of the tavern. Jack made a quick look that said, unto itself, _yeesh_, but turned around nonetheless.

"Aye, mate," said Jack. "An' tha's _Pirate Lord_ to _you_."

The man, who, as Jack noticed, was pretty ugly, gave him an angry look. Jack shrugged. "Askin' ye to join our small an' humble table o' poker, mate. Wha' say you to a deck o' cards?"

Jack sat down, even though he didn't want to play. For some reason, he felt he couldn't refuse. "My name is Ammo Dorsi," said a dark-skinned man who sat next to the ugly man. He had a hint of a French accent. "_Moi_, I am a gypsy."

"Righ'," said Jack. "An' who migh' this sullen-faced… person… be?"

"This is Roger, but we call him Jolly Roger. He's usually quite festive," said Dorsi in a monotone pitch. Jack shrugged. _Whatever. Don't care_.

Jolly Roger gave Jack a horrible look, his eyes lingering over Jack's Piece of Eight. "Wha'?" asked Jack.

"Nothin'," said Roger. "We gave yeh our names. Now you tell us yours."

"If _that's_ all you wanna know," said Jack, more or less to himself. "I'm _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, Pirate Lord of the Caribbean, son of Captain Teague –"

"Yer name's enough," said Jolly Roger. "We don't need pompous prats 'ere."

"You _smell_ funny!"

"An' you –"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Ammo Dorsi stopped the both of them from continuing further into their small disagreement. "We are here to play a game of _poker_, not to _fight_."

"Righ'," said Jack. "Well, are we bidding on money, or –"

"I had actually hoped we might bid on our most prized possessions," said Dorsi. "For example, I have studied under Tia Dalma, a voodoo –"

"—Priestess," said Jack. "I know the woman."

"Ah," said Dorsi with a small smile. "Well, then, that makes two of us, _oui_? She had given me _this_," he said, pulling out a knife. "Not just any knife, this one, here. It can unlock any lock and cut through anything. _C'est incroyable!_ This is my bet. And money," he said, showing them his large amount of money.

"_That's_ your moist prized possession," said Jolly Roger with a laugh. "Well, I have somethin' of _actual_ value."

"Ah, and wha', pray tell, migh' that be?" asked Jack in a bored voice.

Jolly Roger pulled out a gigantic sack and dumped the contents onto the table. There were a hundred, give or take a few, gold coins, as were there many silver coins, rubies, sapphires and other gems. Then he pulled out a giant diamond. "This 'ere be my prize money. All of the gems, though be my prized possession."

"Where'd you get all these?" Jack asked.

"A pirate's secret," said Jolly Roger.

Jack realized that it was, unfortunately, his turn to pay up. Jack, however, didn't intend on giving any one of his items of value.

After several moments of silence, Ammo spoke up. "I see you are having trouble, _Monsieur_ Sparrow," he said. "How about you bid on your spot on the Brethren Court?"

"_Wha'_?" Jack asked.

"Well, we _are_ giving what matters to us most," said Ammo truthfully. "It would be fairest for you to put your Piece of Eight in the bowl."

Jack slowly realized the both of them were in unison, and not waiting for a gang brawl, he fumbled with his Piece of Eight and put it in the bowl of prizes.

"Good," said Jolly Roger.

"Right," said Ammo. "Well, see here, mates. Whomsoever wins when we play regular, you know, with our pounds and shillings and whatnot, he shall get whatever it is that sits in this bowl. I see it as fair."

"As do I," said Jack. _I always win_, he thought. _'Specially wiv' them Poker Charms Tia gave me. They can't do nothin'._

"Righ'," said Roger. "I'll be dealer firs' round."

Roger won the first two rounds. Jack wasn't sure how, though, considering he had a flush both times (without using a single charm). On the third round, Jack paid attention to Roger. He wasn't doing anything. But when he looked to Ammo, he saw him moving his hands over his cards. Jack shuddered.

_I'll use that immunity one_, he thought, sprinkling a small amount of powder onto his cards. "Check." Jack, who yet again (somehow), got another flush – and won. Roger grimaced and gave Ammo a look.

Ammo shrugged and continued through the game. Jack once again used his immunity charm. "Call."

"Raise."

"All right, I'll see you."

"I think a raise's the bes' option."

"I'll match that wager."

"Check." Jack won the round again with a Full House. Roger was starting to shake with anger.

The trudged through the game, Jack winning three, Roger winning two, Ammo winning none.

"How many more rounds?" asked Jack. "We _are_ playin' to ten, righ'?"

"One more. It seems, my good friend, that you are leading," said Ammo silently.

_Whoa_, thought Jack. He checked – and found Ammo to be correct. Jack had five hundred pounds, while Roger had four hundred and seventy-three. Ammo, of course, had none. Jolly Roger looked murderous by this time.

They played their cards one last time. Time seemed to be moving slower for the three men as cards were cast.

"Mm… I'll call," said Jack quietly, sprinkling his immunity powder once more on his two hand cards. He had to be careful, though, because both Jolly Roger and Ammo were paying close attention to his every move.

"Eh," said Roger, "I'll raise. Seems a good bet. Thirty-five pounds."

"Check."

"I'll… check," Jack said, pounding his hand on the table twice.

"I'll check." Three table cards were dealt.

"I'll call," said Roger. Ammo silently put his cards on the table.

"I'm folding," said Ammo. "I have no way of winning as compared to you too, _non_?"

Jack shrugged. "I'll call."

"Call." Another card appeared on the table as Ammo dealt.

"Check."

"Check." The last card finally was shown. Jack had a three-of-a-kind with Aces.

"Check."

"Check." Roger had a sinister grin on his face. "I'm afraid I'm sorry, Mister Sparrow. But it seems I'm Pirate Lord, now."

He put his two cards on the table. Jack grinned.

"Wouldn' be so sure if I was you, mate," said Jack. He pushed his cards onto the table. "My winnings?"

He grabbed all of the gold and dumped it into a bag, along with Ammo's knife and Roger's gems. He fastened the Piece of Eight onto his hair.

"YOU!" Roger began yelling. _Oh. Crap_, thought Jack. "WHY THE HELL WERE _YOU_ MADE PIRATE LORD, EH? YOU DON'T _DESERVE _TO BE IN THE BRETHREN COURT!"

_Ouch_, thought Jack. _Little bugger thinks 'e's important. Well, someone'll 'ave to show 'im that _some_ people, namely myself, exceed others… Like him._

Ammo stood up. "Roger, mate, cool –"

"_Shut up_," he said fiercely. "YOU BETRAYED ME! You swore that you'd lure Sparrow here and make him _lose_. He doesn't even _know_ how to be a pirate – I can't believe the Order o' the Brethren allows 'im to _be_ in it!"

"Ah," said Jack. "So it _wasn't_ the rum. And, mind you, mate, I'm more pirate than you'll _ever_ be." _All right, maybe not like Barbossa_, he thought, _but Barbossa always _was_ a –_

"YOU LITTLE –" Jack shoved an apple in Roger's mouth.

Roger spat it out and pulled out his pistol. "Shiny thing, really," he said. Then he shot Ammo.

"Whoa," said Jack. Ammo fell to the ground, clutching his heart.

"No long a _man_ but a creature, be," said Ammo, throwing dust onto Roger's feet. "I curse you for all eternity, you pig. Neither – _cough_ – dead nor alive you shall be. _Oui_, forever and always…"

Ammo heaved out another breath… and then he was gone. His body dissipated into dust, and a glowing green-coloured light moved from the dust and into Roger, who began squealing with pain.

Jack backed out so he would be close enough to an escape. The crew had already run out, except for Anna-Maria, who had her gun cocked, also standing by the door. Roger's skin ate itself away and his dreadlocks turned into hissing, vile snakes. His eyes burned out and his right hand fell off. Two poker cards got stuck to his hat. Finally, Roger was a full skeleton, his coat and clothing ragged, and his trinkets turned into shrunken heads and voodoo masks. Jack ran out with Anna-Maria, yelling for the good grace of God.

-o-o-o-

"Who're you?" asked Anna-Maria, her pistol aimed at a man wearing a royal red coat, dreadlocks (with trinkets added in), a bicorne hat, and cracked skin.

"Would you stick that _thing_ in yer coat?" asked Jack. "Tha's _Teague_!"

Anna-Maria obliged, sticking the gun inside her coat and walking off. "I'll set for Cuba, just as you asked."

"Righ'," Jack replied. "Erm… Teague, mate… erm… how's about you and I, I and you, we, have a drink, eh? In me _personal_ area? An' don't think I mean anything that I wouldn't be meaning, if you know wha' I mean," he said. "Because I don't mean anything tha' you _think_ I mean, you see what I mean? Because you're me… father… and I don't wan' you thinkin' I asked you to come into any personal area o' mine _save_ for the Captain's Quarters, eh?"

Teague gave him a look. Jack smiled lamely. "I know about yer ship," said Teague, grabbing a bottle of rum from Jack's hand and following him to the Captain's Quarters.

"Sorry?" Jack asked, pretending not to give a care.

"Yer ship, Jack. Makin' a trade with Davy Jones… _idiot's_ job, I tell ye –"

"_No_, it isn't," Jack said. "Don't call _me _the idiot, when it's _you_ whose got mum's little ol' head on yer belt, an –" His father lunged and slapped his face. Jack grabbed it and winced.

"_You_ shut up when your father's speakin'," he said. "An' _don't_ speak 'bout yer mum like tha'."

"You lied 'bout 'er," said Jack. "You lied tons tha' day. An' don't think I'll forget it."

"Yes, I told you she died of a disease, when she was really shot," said Teague quietly, taking another swig. "Don't think I forget it."

"Of course, you couldn't _let_ me do wha' it was mum-sy wanted, eh?"

"Look, Jack," said Teague, his voice stern. "Yer mum and I believed in wha's known as the best o' ye – _you're_ the reason I'm still around luggin' after ships when I _could_ be off in Shipwreck Cove livin' me life. See, tha' year, I married yer mum. Nothin' a pirate'd do, which was why it was all hush-hush. Then, o' course, me enemy comes in ter shoot 'er while I'm off on a plunderin' job."

"_Maybe_, if you were home more, you'd've been able to _do _somethin' –" Teague clawed at Jack's face.

"OW!"

"Again with the back-talking," said Teague.

"Sorry, mate," said Jack.

"We had another kid, a little baby, as it were. Another boy," he mumbled. "Looked a _lot_ like you. We named 'im Marcus Teague. Ownin' ter you, o' course. Tha' nigh' that I came back home, I'd struck the grand money. Biggest Warship I'd seen – a damn righ' large East Indiaman. Excited, I knew yer mother'd be. When I got there, o' course, things were downright diff'rent. I found yer mother dead, an' our new son there, too, a bullet to the head. I'd never thought I'd ever feel pain in me life, but tha' was the worst. Then I came ter you, and gave you a ship. And you got it burned down, an' now, me only family is gonna be _workin' for Davy Jones_!

"That ship, incidentally, was my own portal into freedom. An' wha' with it bein' burned down by _mister_ short –"

"Aye, but yeh could've gotten another one built! Yeh don' see causes for causes, Jack!"

"I do, though," said Jack. "She may not've meant much to _you_, mate, but she was _everything_ for me. I understand yer _causes_, Cap'n. I just – I really thought the _Wench_ was more important for me. I had a _life_ on that ship. An' then o' course, Davy Jones made me a deal… one I won' be keepin' to –"

"Do yeh not know Davy Jones?"

"Why, should I?"

Teague sighed. "All Pirate Lords've met 'im. Scum, he is, and then some. 'Course, once yeh make a bargain with him, it's hard to get out."

"You forget one _very important _thing, mate," said Jack. "I'm _Captain Jack Sparrow_."

"Ah, well, forgot. An' I heard that yeh renamed yer ship the _Black Pearl_, eh?"

"Righ'," Jack said proudly. Then his face lowered, remembering Barbossa.

"Why ain't yeh on the ship you sold yer soul for?"

"Why am I on the _Devil's Slave_?" Teague was quiet, waiting for an answer. Jack just grinned, for a long time, until Teague raised his eyebrows and prodded him.

"Well?"

"I was after the treasure o' Cortes."

"Who?"

"Ol' Spanish _conquistador_," said Jack. "Bloody idiot if you ask me. Stuck 'is treasure on an island wha' can't be found _except_ by those who already know where it is. Called _Isla De Muerta_, or Island of the Dead. Funny ol' name, if you ask me. Anyway, I got on me ship, and, upon being advised by a certain _Tia Dalma_, got a first mate – another Pirate Lord, if you will, named Barbossa…"

And so Jack continued on his story, until Teague finally asked, "So… you got off the island, eh, boy?"

"Yes, as a matter o' fact. Three days."

"Ah," said Teague. "How? Yeh can' be gettin' help on a deserted island outta trade winds, eh? Rule o' the pirate code is to _never_ maroon any man on an easily found island."

Fortunately, Jack had fabricated his answer the day he had met Anna-Maria. He had found many who asked him the question, and the answer was always easy. Always. "Well, let's see. I was on the beach a gran' total o' three days, mate. Rest assured, I found meself some fruit – large…_melons_… delicious," he said. He never actually tasted them, but he pushed on. "The first night, I got tired of eatin' them melons – my stomach would've burst by the time the sun set. So, I sat in the deep water. Quite easy, mind. Me head stuck out jus' fine. By the time day three came along, I 'ad all manner o' sea life sittin' around me. I would've ridden on them dolphins, but I kept slidin' off. Rubbery backs, you know. So then I saw, sittin on either side o' me, two giant sea turtles. Huge, gi-_nor_-mous. So I roped 'em together and, takin' me flat stick wha' I used to tally on the beach, I grabbed a coupla melons and sat on 'em. Eventually, after wha' seemed like a few days, I reached what is formally known as Kingston, Jamaica. The end."

Teague shook his head. "Nice."

"'Course."

"How old are yeh, boy?"

"Almost twenty-five."

"Hmph. And what were you doing here?"

"I see no bridge between subjects, but, all right, to tell ye the truth, someone used something we call _voodoo_ to draw me here…"

Jack went on about Jolly Roger, adding in a few great measures to it, such as how he fended Roger off when he tried to victimize poor Anna-Maria. "Turns out I'm pirate after all." Teague leaned in and smacked his face.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"

"Haven't I thought you nothin', boy?"

"Say, what?"

"I promised yer mother I'd make you a great man, even if it meant you were a pirate. I held you to it, that ye wouldn't be a pirate 'till _after_ she was gone – an' believe me, didn't I think she'd die an old woman? Now, look here, yer being a Pirate Lord – that's the best thing I can do for ya. It's the closest thing ter power over the world, mate, and it's the best damn thing that your mother and I could've made you. You hold that Piece of Eight to you, boy, and don't you let go of it. If you _once_ or _ever_ let it go, you're no where near the magical child we thought yer mother conceived."

Jack remained silent.

"You had a _choice_ – oh, give up yer smaller things, if you would, but _not_ your damn Piece of Eight, do you UNDERSTAND!"

Jack nodded. "You know, tha's the third time you've slapped me today –"

"And if you weren't the only piece o' legal lineage I got, I'd've torn out a couple of limbs o' yers."

Jack gulped.

"Now, this dealin' o' yers with Jones – do you have a plan to stop it?"

"Not right _now_ – I sorta… make things up as they come along."

"Right," said Teague. "I'll come again."

Jack walked up to quarterdeck to take the helm as he saw Teague swing into a longboat and paddle to the distant shore of Rambleshack.

"After we see ol' Tia Dalma," Jack said to Anna-Maria, "I say we head off ter Tortuga… see if we can't get more of a crew."

_See if we can't get the _Black Pearl, he thought.


	13. The Mermaid

**Author's Note:** _Hey everyone… still no reviews for the past few chapters – well, except one from an anon on chapter 10, thanks so much for that – really, I'm in need of them most right about now! Anyway, disclaimer: I don't own anything Pirates of the Caribbean, only the fandom ;) haha – although, you know, eventually, Johnny Depp ;) Now… in case you didn't notice, last chapter involved Jack Sparrow's dealings with a certain Jolly Roger from the _**Pirates of the Caribbean Online **_game! Okay, more __exciting__ stuff coming along now – and _**do**_ read, __**REVIEW!!**__ – and, enjoy!!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Thirteen**

The Mermaid

Sailing to Cuba was undoubtedly easy, for the crew didn't get much bored. Rather, they enjoyed Jack's retelling of many of his adventures, including a re-vamped version of his "Nassau Port."

"See, I was after the treasure of some age ol' conquistador, an' it was buried righ' there, at Nassau Port. So, o' course, I went down there, at the same time as another pirate, oh, wot's 'is face, Black Smoke James. 'E was there to attack the port o' Nassau an' become the Magistrate."

"No, you couldn't've!" said a very tall and muscular (though dim-witted) crewmember.

"Aye," said Jack. "I did. An', wha's more, is after I got me treasure, I went off and played Sir Black Smoke righ' down ter the boot. See, I went to the Magistrate, 'is name was…urrhhmmm… Magistrate Flynn. I told 'im tha' _I_ was ol' Black Smoke James an' that if ol' Flynn called off 'is returnin' attack, he'd make me owner of everything in the island. 'Course, ol' Black Smoke came in righ' then, you know. An' after we battled on ol' Jamesy's ship, o' course, wiv' me winnin', else I wouldn' be here, I went right ahead an' looted the _entire_ Nassau Port – wiv'out one _single_ shot. All I remember hearin' from ol' Black Smoke, who disappeared, it seemed, into dark smoke, was a vow o' revenge against me. 'Course, at any rate, I'd win anything against _that_ bloke."

The part of the crew that was near enough to Jack to hear him all nodded in agreement, giving voices of assent. Then, Jack heard from the crow's nest –

"CAP'N! LAND AHEAD, I'LL WAGER!"

"Ah, must be Cuba," said Jack. "Now… to my … sweet?… Voodoo temptress…"

-o-o-o-

"Jack Sparrow…" Tia Dalma purred.

Jack put on a grin and said, softly, "Tia Dalma."

"I know wat it is dat you seek," she said.

"Course you do," Jack muttered incoherently. "Look, _I_ don't even know wot it is that _I_ seek, love."

"Mm," she said, ladling something that was of a murky green colour out of a giant bowl. "You want de _Black Pearl_, yes?"

"'Course I want the _Pearl_ back. Why wouldn' I want the _Pearl_ back?"

"And you want a crew," she said. "A good one, too, not like dat which marooned you, yes?"

"Erm – just to add to this 'un 'ere," said Jack. Anna-Maria's shoulders relaxed.

"And you want revenge on dat Barbossa, I see," she said. "In addition to avoiding dat skeleton-creature, mm?"

"I'm checking the boxes on all of the above, love," Jack said. "Anything you can do to… you know…"

"Of course," said Tia Dalma. "Dat won't be hard to do. Before anyting happens, you must raise your crew. Go to Port Royal. If you remember Mister Gibbs –"

"The Navy hog?" Jack asked uncertainly. He'd met Gibbs as a younger man, aboard the _Wicked Wench_. Gibbs got on the _Wench_ in order to get a ride to Port Royal from Isla Cangrejos. Having reached Port Royal, Gibbs said he'd wanted to join the Navy. Jack obligingly let him go.

"He be no hog," said Tia Dalma. "He was caught in a scam. And now, he be branded by a man named James Norrington."

Jack nodded, slowly.

"Dis Gibbs knows who de best sailors are," said Tia Dalma, looking up from her stirring and ladling. She opened a jar that hung from the ceiling and pulled out a small lock of hair held together by a blue ribbon and handed it to Jack. "Dis is Siren's hair. You unleash it in front of Gibbs and show him its powers, and he will come willingly."

"And how do I unleash said immaculately and astonishingly stupefying powers for ol' Gibbs, eh?"

"You kiss the ribbon. It will untie only dat way, and a mermaid will appear," said Tia Dalma. Jack's eyes glittered. "She won't be able to deliver you to Davy Jones. Not yet," she said, all knowing. Jack nodded with a pained expression.

"You will come back after dat, once you have gathered a crew with his help. Look in Tortuga, you will find faithful hands."

"Will I be able to use it _more_ 'n once?" Jack asked, hoping he'd get lucky with a mermaid.

"You can use it for up to three times. Save the third for when you _really_ need it. I know wat you will do wit the first," she said, looking at him, slightly stern.

"Right," said Jack, feeling uncomfortable.

"It will work," she said with a grim smile. "But once you have de time, come here… come to me…"

"You _know_ I will," he said with a sloppy grin. She kissed his cheek and waved him goodbye.

Once they had reached, from the longboats, the _Devil's Slave_, Jack yelled to the crew. "RAISE THE ANCHOR, HOIST THE SAILS, AND HEAD IN A _THAT_ WAY DIRECTION!" Jack said, pointing his finger to the North. "Well, scurry, move it, chop, chop, _you_ know the works…"

It would take until nightfall for them to reach Port Royal, and Jack had every intention of taking his time. "Anna-Maria, love," Jack said. She gave him a smug look. "If you'd be so kind as to take the helm, I'd be very –"

"I know what it is that you're doing, Jack," she said with a small smile. "Oh, by all means, go ahead… but, I _had_ hoped…"

"Hoped _what_, darling?" Jack asked, his mind set on the mermaid that would soon come.

"I thought… you know… me and – and you… and…"

"Oh," said Jack, finally listening. "Well, love, erm… This night, I'm afraid, I won't be lingering free."

Anna-Maria raised an eyebrow. "Understandable. One night is all your mind is set on."

"'Course it is!" Jack walked off and stood by the hull side, where there was an opening for a ladder and kissed the blue ribbon. The ribbon untied and the hair turned into water and fell overboard. "Trust on _that_ to happen."

What happened next was completely unexpected. Jack could see, on the horizon, something – it looked like a dolphin – leaping over the waves and to the ship. Finally, it reached the side of the ship. A face appeared out of the water – a face, Jack was horrified to note, that reminded him remarkably of Mercedes _and_ the prostitute, Giselle. She had a pout on, all right, and her chestnut-brown hair, which was (strangely) dry, even though she had been in the water all along. The young woman's breasts were covered by only her hair, which did a good job of covering.

She gave a small smile at Jack, who grinned in return. "Did you call me?"

"Sorry?" Jack asked, taken aback. "You speak English." _Good_, thought Jack.

"Let me guess, you think I should speak something romantic, like… French."

"I _love_ romantic, and I _can_ speak French, but no," said Jack. "You know, I think _everyone_ in the world should learn English. It'd make things much easier." _Considering how bad my Spanish is, and how much I stand corrected,_ he thought. "Come aboard, love."

The girl climbed aboard (and it took her a long time, because her long, slender, scaled tail had to flop up with her) and sat on the floor. "I'd get up, if I had legs," she said, envying Jack's. "You know, I haven't met that many human men – generally pirates – who are… well," she blushed. "Good-looking. You're an exception, I'll warrant."

"Can you ever get legs?" Jack said aloud to himself.

"Yes," she said. "But the man who calls me must change me."

"And _how_ migh' I do this fascinating and yet riveting action, eh?"

"You must _kiss_ me… and I must catch on," she said mischievously.

"Works for _me_," Jack said. Some of the crew began gaping at the mermaid. "Back to your stations, the lot of you!"

The crew nodded, but some of the men still kept their eyes on the mermaid as Jack carried her to his cabin. He plopped her down on the couch and shut – and bolted – the door.

"You know," she said. "It would be appropriate for you to give me a name… should I come wanting."

"Ah," said Jack with a grin. "_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, love."

"I have heard of you," she said, after a few moments of silence. Her blue eyes narrowed a bit. "Didn't you say you used sea turtles?"

"Whoa," Jack said. "How'd you –"

"We hear everything, Jack," she said, edging her mouth closer to his. When their lips almost touched, she said, "I am Marsielle, a Sea Nymph in Calypso's Court."

"Calypso's court?" Jack sat back a little, looking somewhat confused.

"Yes," she said. Jack walked around the room, thinking. "Surely you know her?"

"I don't know," said Jack. "Should I?"

"Calypso was bound in human form years ago," said Marsielle in an unnatural voice. "Only _she_ has the Siren's hair."

Jack sat back down next to her. "_Tia Dalma_?" Jack thought to himself. _Makes sense… Voodoo couldn't tell you _everything_ now, could it?_

"I do believe that's the name she's going by," said Marsielle quietly. Jack shrugged.

"I should've figured," said Jack, leaning in once more. She cut off a lock of hair.

"Keep this," she said. A ribbon formed around it on its own. Jack shrugged and kissed her.

The next thing they knew, the mermaid's tail turned into a watery wrapping encircling a pair of fair, wintry cream-coloured legs. She was perfect – and she should've been. She _was_ a mermaid, after all. And mermaids don't come at all that often.

-o-o-o-

The crew had reached Port Royal, tired, and in need of rum. Jack decided that instead of just any drink, Jack would buy a jug, much like Mercedes did, and see if he could last through it.

At any rate, Jack stepped aboard the deck. Upon locking eyes with the harbourmaster, who gave him a stern look, Jack sighed and walked up to him. "All righ', two shillings. No names."

The harbourmaster gratefully accepted it and let him pass on his way. Little did he know that Jack had picked his pocket.

Jack had noticed that Port Royal had given off a discreetly odoriferous smell. _Smells worse than Davy Jones and Tia Dalma – er, Calypso – combined, _he thought. _Nevertheless…_

Jack continued through Port Royal, following his compass as it pointed.

"Front…urrrhhhmmm… left… eh… right? No, straight… ah," he said. "Maybe it _is_ rum that I want most righ' now." _I couldn't want a man so bad, now, could I?_ Jack thought, shuddering.

He had landed himself right in front of the Rowdy Rooster tavern. He looked in his pocket and pulled out a gold coin and kept it at the ready.

He walked into a right brawl that had been brewing. Of course, there was always a brawl at almost _every_ tavern he'd visited, what with the drunks running around, missing their tables and spilling their rum on big, brawny men with no brains. Jack walked among them – and noticed their hats.

Suddenly, Jack felt almost naked. Although all that was missing was his hat, Jack felt as if his deep, pure soul was exposed to all the dangers of the world.

He leaned against a chair and propped his boots on the table, nonetheless, pretending to enjoy himself and his money, and every time a drunk was pushed his direction, he'd grab a hat. None of them felt right… until a certain _very _familiar hat came his way. Jack pushed it on his head – yes, it was his very hat, the hat that was missing since he'd been to Rambleshack (although he had just noticed that it hadn't been present all that time). Jack looked around, a little scared. _Nope, no Jolly Roger here. We're fine, Jackie, aren't we? Oh, yeah, 'course we are. 'Cause _I'M _Captain Jack Sparrow, and you are all my, regrettably, and lamentably, identical minions doomed to do whatever I want, whether you like it or not! But we love serving you, Jack! Of course you –_

"I'll ask you again, mate, are ye going to order up?" a rather fierce looking redheaded woman stood over him. She didn't appear to be that young, possibly ten or more years than Jack.

"Oh, righ', Ralphina, sorry," he said.

"How'd you know my name?"

"Your pin," he said, pointing at the little sign that sat on her blouse.

"Right, sorry. Well?"

"I'll have a _jug_ full. Here's your pay," he said, stuffing the coin into her hand. "And a whole stock more for me ship. My question… why is the rum _always_ gone, take three days into a journey, eh?"

"Like I care," said Ralphina. "One more pretty penny, mate, and I'll give you _three_ whole stocks o' me _best _rum."

Jack sighed and pulled out another gold coin. "Ain't no penny, I'll warrant," he said. "Pure gold, love."

"I know," said Ralphina, who took it, her eyes glittering at the two gold pieces that sat in her hand as she walked off. Jack closed his eyes, his hat in his arms, as he listened in on the bets his crew made as to who would win the brawl.

"You, sir," said Ralphina's voice. Jack's eyes fluttered open. "Your jug? And your stocks…right here."

"Good," said Jack. "Thanks, mate."

"Any time," she said. "Oh, and there's a little… assassination job I've in mind, if you want some money."

"Assassination?" said Jack. "I'd do it, but there's someone I could recommend…" Not sure if he wanted to share, he tarried on. "Her name's Mercedes Shackleton."

"I wouldn't give Mercedes something like this," said Josie. "She told me that you weren't the smartest man in the world."

Jack gave Ralphina a look of mock horror. "How'd you know I'm the one she was talking about? And how'd you know that _your_ Mercedes is _my_ Mercedes?"

"_Your_ Mercedes?" asked Ralphina. "Hah!"

"Well?"

Ralphina sat next to Jack, who was still enjoying his reclined position. "We come from a small family. Mercedes, Tomlinson, and Me. We're the three siblings what lived. We had two little sisters once, their names were Saraphina and Raquelle –"

"You lot have the most unusual names… unusually, unusual things seem to be my cup of tea, you know, because they're quite unusual," said Jack, admiring the rings on his right hand.

"Thanks… I think…" she said, trailing off.

"Do continue, dearie," said Jack. "Mercedes _would_ want me to know, innit?"

Ralphina sighed. "Right. Me dad, an old penniless drunk twice the age of me mum, accidentally… killed them along with our mumsie. He had an overdose of whiskey.

"It was that day we took all of our money – er, whatever was left of it that our father hadn't used on his drinks – and decided we'd make use of ourselves. The three of us left Southampton and came to the Caribbean, a free ride courtesy of our pirate friends, Tristan Marks and his crew. Tomlinson tried to become a member of the Navy, but they didn't accept him. Said he's one who'd probably follow after his father. He kept asking – worked really hard, day and night, toiling after the one goal to make himself worthwhile – until one man in the Navy, his name was Greythorne, had finally shot him in the back. Tomlinson retreated to Padres Del Fuego."

"Ah, so that's why _my_ Mercedes," said Jack, pointing the possession out to Ralphina, "went over to Padres."

"Hmph. Yes," said Ralphina. "I saw how much money my father spent on drinks, and the like, so I decided to open up this tavern here. Mercedes was more of the adventurous type – and mind you, she was quite skilled with the sword and pistol, so she took to working on pushing her skills up, you know, with cannons, grenades, shivs and other daggers, of course, the sword and pistol – although, I'm quite sure her grenade skills _could be_ better…"

"Course you are," said Jack, thinking to himself. "Why wouldn't you give your own sister a job when she needs it?"

"Because the Navy's put a price on her head."

Jack remained silent, then looked up. "Say what?" He took a swig from his jug.

"When you dropped her off at Padres," said Ralphina, "she went to take care of Tomlinson. He's got something bad with him – we're not quite sure about what's going to happen to him…that was when Greythorne came in. Tried to seduce her, he did. Then she shot him a few times, and next thing that's posted up in the news, he's dead, and there's reward money for the man what turns her in – five hundred pounds. And I heard yours raised, too. Seven hundred."

"You know who I am, then?"

Ralphina pointed at his tattoo, and then his head. "You've got a distinct appearance, Jack Sparrow. It's easy to see. Rest assured, you'll be safe here. The only Navy people what come here are the drunkards what never pay attention to anything."

"Ah," said Jack. "Interesting story. I'd listen more, but unfortunately, I must find a certain… Joshamee Gibbs."

"You could've said earlier," said Ralphina with a grim smile. "He's over there."

Jack looked to his left and saw an old-ish man sitting at a table, playing cards. Jack stood up, straightened out, and walked to him. "You, Joshamee Gibbs!"

Gibbs looked up, confused. "Can I help you?"

"I would like to recruit you for me crew… and _have_ you recruit others for me."

"I don't even _know_ you, nor would I care to join," said Gibbs.

"I'm _Captain Jack Sparrow_, mate," said Jack. "My crew is your life's calling."

Gibbs stood up. "Folding, mates, and I leave," he said to those at the table. Then, to Jack, he said, "Now, what's all this about, sir? How'd you know if I even _wanted_ to –"

"If I called on a mermaid friend of mine to come and say a cheery hello for you, what would you say, eh?" Jack asked.

Gibbs's eyes grew wide. "Captain, eh? I'll be yer First Mate."

"_That's_ the spirit," said Jack, patting Gibbs's back.

-o-o-o-

They had finally reached Port Royal. "Governor Swann, sir," said an ambitious young man, "your mansion is complete, sir, and all of your servants are there and waiting."

"Not this one," said Governor Weatherby Swann, pointing at a young woman standing by his daughter, Elizabeth. "Estrella is Elizabeth's personal maid. See to it that she has better accommodations than the rest."

"Yes, of course," said the young man.

Elizabeth wrapped her hand around Will's shoulders. Under all of his blankets, he was a deathly white, but he seemed to be perfectly fine. "You're staying with us," she said happily. "At least, until _they_ can find somewhere for you to be."

"Thanks, Miss Swann," said Will, feeling slightly light-headed in her presence.

"Call me Elizabeth," she said.

"I couldn't," he said. Elizabeth pouted, let go of his shoulders, and walked with James instead.

Her absence caused Will to feel a lot less light-headed, nonetheless, he felt a sudden urge of longing. He shook it off.

Elizabeth, James, and Governor Swann stepped into the carriage.

"Well, my friend," said James, "It _would _be nice if you joined us." Will obliged and stepped in.

Soon everyone in the carriage had learned much about Will during the course of their ride to the new mansion. Elizabeth listened, but was so intrigued by Port Royal's appearance (and a little disgusted at the smell), that she looked nowhere but out the window.

"Tell us," said Governor Swann, "Will, how old are you?"

"Oh, erm, fifteen," said Will.

"And what is it that your father does?" asked James, who wasn't really interested.

"He's a merchant," said Will. "A respectable man."

"Of course, of course," said Governor Swann. Will looked out _his_ window miserably.

-o-o-o-

"I've got ye a crew, sir," said Gibbs proudly. "All mad to boot, just as you requested."

"None of 'em have mutiny on their records, do they?"

"Sorry?"

"Didn't think so," said Jack. "It's time we went _again_," _and unfortunately_, "upriver to Tia Dalma." _It's time to brace yourself for more stench_, Jack thought.


	14. Novel Competences… Crummy Recollections

A/N: Hey everyone

**A/N:** _Hey everyone! Just thought I'd share a couple notes: firstly, I know the mermaids are "perfect" little Mary-Sue type things. They aren't all that important in the story, just appear a couple of times. I know we'd all like to kill 'em. I do too. The mermaids are supposed to be perfect, at least, the ones we see in the story, I mean, come on: they're the ones in a __goddesses' court__. They have minimal importance, except for when they pass on information, which isn't that often since they usually keep to themselves. Secondly: Thank you all__** so much**__ for the reviews! I do need more, I'll keep stressing on that, but every review saves Jack's life one more time_ and_ makes Jack more __notorious__ as well, even if the review is to tell me that my story sucks. Which I'm totally okay with, considering I want all aspects on my story and what you think I can improve on :) Read, review, enjoy!_

-o-o-o-

Chapter Fourteen

Novel Competences… Crummy Recollections

Jack was running around on the _Devil's Slave_ trying to find something to pay Tia Dalma. He knew she wouldn't accept their love-fests as payment – _but she should_, he thought, _because I'm spending me time with a… nasty-smelling…lady_. _Oh, wait, she's probably listening. Sorry, Tia, love, I didn't mean it! I didn't – but you did, Jackie! Oh shut up, Jack, of course I didn't. Yeah, he didn't, Jack. Hey, Cap'n, let's shoot him! No, I say we throw him overboard. Shut up, the three of you! I'm a figment of your stupid imagination! Aye, let's throw him overb –_

"Cap'n? We found summat down below," said Gibbs. "It seems we have a few things that might work out." Jack obligingly followed Gibbs to the decks below. He hadn't ever been down there – only ever ordered his crew to get him drinks from the cellars – but he never went below on the _Devil's Slave_.

The decks were musty – mold grew on the ceilings and Jack could smell the mildew and sweat, without any reprieve whatsoever. He was quite fixated on the unfortunately odiferous charms of the place, resolving that he would immediately order people to scrub the ceilings, floors, and walls until they simply sparkled. "Does it always smell this…erm…haplessly _unpalatable_, eh?"

"I can't push smell and taste together," Gibbs said, trying to push the correct definition of "unpalatable" in Jack's face, "but yes, it's quite disgusting."

"Mm," Jack said. "Well, it's more smell than I can handle, much more than the smell of _cack_ –" At this, Gibbs raised his eyebrows and creased his forehead.

"Aye, Cap'n," he said. "Ah, here we're to be," he said, pointing at a door dead ahead of them.

"Well, aren't you goin' to _open_ it?" Jack asked with a puzzled look.

"Uh, oh, yes," said Gibbs, his hands trying desperately – and unsuccessfully – to open the door. "It appears to be jammed."

"Move," Jack said, pulling out his pistol. Gibbs gulped. Jack changed his aim to the door's lock, and right in the center – _BANG_! The door swung open. "It appears there was an unfortunate lock."

"Aye, Cap'n," said Gibbs. "'Course."

Jack walked in to see various rare valuables – gold statues, silver trinkets, fountains made of jewels – and immediately, his jaw dropped open. "You think I should give one o' _these_ to Tia Dalma…?"

"Well, Cap'n, considering the amount o' loot we got 'ere," said Gibbs, "Wouldn't it be all right to give maybe… a _statue_ up? And then, o' course… maybe I can have one…"

"_One_ statue for Tia Dalma, then," said Jack, walking about and touching his new possessions greedily. "Make it _this _one," he said, pulling out a rather small one. "It's small, it's portable, an' besides, Tia don' have much room in that ol', mephitic shack of hers, does she? Yup, it's this one."

Jack walked out and stopped. "Mister Gibbs, do we have another _lock_?"

"Er –" Gibbs thought. "One to the rum cellar."

Jack gave a pained expression. "Rum and gold… two of me most prized possessions… ah, well, I suppose, considering the amount of monetary value in that there room, we should shift the lock from the rum cellar and put it 'ere, savvy?"

"Aye, Cap'n," said Gibbs, nodding. He then hurried off to go further below to fetch the lock as Jack swaggered on deck with the small gold idol that resembled a statue from the Easter Islands.

"Oh," Jack said upon reaching the poop deck. A large, brawny, tan-skinned member of his crew stood before him. "Erm… can I help you?"

"Cap'n," he said in a surprisingly mellow tone, "it seems we've run out of food, sir."

"Well, then, in that case…" Jack said, looking at the time. "It's noon." His stomach grumbled loudly. "Let's stop at that island, there… see if we can't get any food." Jack sashayed to his Captain's Quarters and stuffed the gold idol inside a drawer under several papers and maps that he drew himself when he worked under Beckett – maps he had found when he snuck into Beckett's London mansion when sailing with Barbossa.

-o-o-o-

What with the ship completely tied down onto the beach, Jack sauntered out along the beach. "There's smoke comin' from those cliffs up there, Cap'n," said Gibbs.

"Wha'? Oh, yeah, I knew tha'," said Jack. "I know _everything_! Let's… go through the jungle. We'll get there, eventually."

"Suppose the people that live here are savages, Cap'n –"

"Relax, mate," said Jack. "Ol' Teague taugh' me 'bout 'ow to speak a savage language. Not sure if it'll work 'ere, but it'll buy us some time, I 'fink."

Jack walked through the jungle until, eventually he found some peculiar looking wood. The rest of his crew was near him, all looking at the different and strange trees and animals that moved around.

Jack's face moved very close to the strange wood, then – "Hey, it looks like this 'ere's got eyes! And… a nose… and… a mouth – OH, CR–"

Something shot Jack's back and Jack rolled lazily to sleep.

-o-o-o-

When Jack woke up, he was hanging from a long stick, his hands tied together and his feet tied together. A large man walked to him, his body painted back, wearing nothing but a loincloth and strange white markings all over his body shaped like bones. His nose had white bone-like spears sticking out of it. Jack shuddered. _Savages. Gibbs was right._

"Erm…lum say-say…me chief?" Jack struggled to remember the words his father had taught him. The savages stopped jumping around the fire and looked at him with wide eyes. _Ah, so we're on to something, Jackie. Best put your best face forward…_

"Lum say-say, lum yar-ruler, savvy?" The tribe looked among each other, nodding. They untied Jack and dragged him to a large, covered throne.

"Yar-ruler, eeseepi!" The big black-painted man bowed his head.

"Eeseepi," the rest of them said, bowing.

Jack looked at his fellow mates. "They speak something called Umshoko, I think. You know, they think I'm their king," said Jack.

"Yar-ruler, lum say big-big!"

"Bugger," Jack said. "They think I'm their God."

"Then tell 'em to let us out!" said Gibbs, his face twisted with fear.

"Erm, all right. Lum say –"

"Boom-boom tila-tila," said a creepy-looking older woman, "yar-ruler-big-big _ummmm_."

"Oh," said Jack. "When the drums stop, they'll eat me."

"Yettara-ouina _ummmm_," said another voice.

"And when they eat me, they'll eat you," said Jack. _NOT GOOD!_

Gibbs gulped, and the big, muscular, dim-witted crewmember dropped into a light faint.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," said Jack. "I always do."

"Big-big say-say lit?"

"Erm," Jack said… _What are they asking me to do? Cap'n, they're asking you to _tell_ them what to do with your crew, innit? Of course they are, Jack, __you're__ their bloody chief_, Jack thought. _Yeah, I'm their bloody thief! Erm, chief, I mean_.

"Lay them on the ground… erm… lum say-say you lay-lay? Yeah, tha's it." The cannibals shrugged and put the men on the ground. "Mates, don't do anything _stupid_… I'm doing all I can. Wait 'till they have somethin' better to do, then we can see about getting us off o' the island."

"See if we can do that with our damn ship tied to the ground," said Gibbs. "See if you can make a distraction when we escape, and we'll –"

"Release the _Devil's Slave_," said Jack, thinking aloud.

"Big-big say-say voh ouina," said another.

"All righ', maybe it ain't a good idea to _converse_ with you lot," said Jack. "Lum say-say…" Jack didn't remember anything his father taught him – only the little bits he had already spoken and heard. "Lum say-say go… leave this place?"

The people looked at each other, confused.

"All right, try this. Lum say-say leave-leave."

Again, strange looks.

"Run off, go-go, sayonara, au revoir, SOMETHING!"

At this point, the people were giving each other strange looks. _They ain't believin' me no more,_ thought Jack, horrified.

"Tu, hatt-oingina tel_mar_," said the black man to a skinny little boy with a wig that looked to Jack like the long ones the Governors in England used to wear. _Ick_, he thought.

The little boy ran off. _Wait,_ thought Jack. _Wha' did 'e say? Hatt-oingina…telmar? Yeah, tha's it._

"Lum say-say, hatt-oingina. Tel_mar_. All o' you, yes, tha's it," he said. The men began leaving, but the women stayed. "Wha'? I wasn't bein' _sexist_, now was I?"

"Erm…" Jack heard a woman's stomach grumble. They all looked at her – then at the crew. "No," Jack said, as they dragged the big, brawny one off, screaming and yelling.

"Wa-say kohn?" says one of the women (who Jack hadn't spotted before), pointing at him.

"Een big-big," said another one of them.

"Ahh, big-big," said the first. "Eeseepi."

Jack nodded his head several times. "Yeah, that." _Wa-say kohn…prolly means 'whozzat?'_

-o-o-o-

It had been hours since the women had left the area. The drums were still playing on the other side of a cliff. Jack had been practicing his cannibal language with his two attendants – and apart from these two attendants, there was not a cannibalistic soul in sight.

"Ah," said Jack to one of them. He looked at his crew. "It's time."

"Aye, Jack, we've got to go!"

"I'll make a little… diversion, savvy?"

"Right," said Gibbs.

"Say-say lam shoop-shoop sha smalay-lama shoo-koo, savvy?"

The two attendants shrugged and walked off.

"What did you tell them?"

"I told them to build cages out of bones to stick you in," said Jack. Gibbs's jaw dropped open. "Well, it'll buy you time, mate, innit? You…go let the _Slave_ free. GO!"

They ran off one bridge. Jack took another bridge – several, in fact, in a certain order as he ran over cliffs – until eventually, he stopped in front of the little boy with the wig. "Erm… Lum say-say, hatt-oingina, tel_mar_!"

"Wa-mein tel_mar_!"

"You're on telmar? What's telmar?" Jack looked behind him – and saw all of the Pelegostos standing there. And, what was more, they were all standing on a volcano. "Just… thought I'd get fit, eh?"

"BALL LICKY-LICKY!" They yelled. Jack began yelling and running for his life through the forests, bridges, and whatever else came his way until finally, he was on level ground.

Eventually he – followed by the mad, paint-covered anthropophagi – reached the beach. Jack saw the _Devil's Slave_'s sails up in full, and Gibbs motioning for him to get on board. Jack caught a hold of the rigging and climbed up to the poop deck. He walked to the bow to address his devotees as the ship pulled away. "Alas, my children, I have no doubt we will meet once again, in a very, very bad place that we like to call Hell, but until that moment, rest on this godforsaken spit of land what we call Isla De Pelegosto, and always remember this day as the day that you almost caught your infamous God – and chief, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow!"

The ship sailed into the bay, with the man-eaters crying out from the shore. "Remind me _never_ to come to any off-marked island looking for food," Jack said to Gibbs.

"How's about we put some distance between us and Pelegostos, eh, Cap'n?"

"Aye," said Jack. "But we'll 'ave to stay close to the shallows. Cuba's righ' round the corner." _A story worth telling_, thought Jack. _Good. Them wenches won't be put out._ "I have decided to rename the ship… the… erm… The –"

"The _Wandering Compass_," said Anna-Maria. "I've seen it, Jack. It does nothing but _wander_. You sure it works?"

"My compass works _perfectly well_," said Jack. "And yes, The _Wandering Compass_. I come up with good ship names, don't I?"

Jack walked into his cabin, away from a disbelieving Anna-Maria as Gibbs sent another crewmember to paint over the _Devil's Slave_'s name.

Little did the crew know that behind them followed a gigantic crocodile that was so big it could have been genetically modified – its mouth was big enough to hold two sailors, and it was roughly the length of half of the war-ship that the _Wandering Compass_ was.


	15. Rambleshack's Visitor

A/N: …And now you know the story of how Jack became their chief :) So, now that we've past that one particular part (and yes, m

**A/N:** _…And now you know the story of how Jack became their chief :) Sorry for the lack of update, I've been a little attached to my Pirates Online game! So, now that we've past that one particular part (and yes, more reviews __please__), we're going to be moving on at a faster pace. As for the crocodile at the end of the chapter – I wanted to make the whole "crocodile chases Captain Hook" to be based off of a legend of Jack Sparrow's – but Jack won't be Hook. Not at all. You'll see who he is! Now: read, __**review**__, and do please ENJOY!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Fifteen**

Rambleshack's Visitor

Jack, though unwillingly, met with Tia Dalma once more in her small, foul-smelling shack. She was whipping through Jack's mind – something he found ridiculously unbearable – finding what it was that needed to be done.

"You have a lot of work, Jack Sparrow," said Tia Dalma. "Dis…Jolly Roger… I see much of him in de Caribbean's future. You as a Pirate Lord must stop him. He was after the Piece of Eight which you possess, and now, he doesn't have it. You killing a man gave it to you," she said. Jack recalled – it was an accident.

He was seventeen, and a Chinese pirate named Chen was trying to beat the pulp out of Jack for sleeping with a prostitute named Min during Chen's "appointment." Jack pulled out his dagger, intent on threatening him, but accidentally pushed it too far. Jack managed to get the red out of his shirt, but a nasty yellow shade was left behind.

Tia continued, "There be one woman who will be willing to help you. She be on Rambleshack. Break her out of prison, and she will be indebted to you for de rest of her life."

Jack liked how this sounded.

"Do not take advantage of her, Jack Sparrow," said Tia Dalma. "Unless she come willingly."

Jack's smile disappeared. "Tia, love, do you, say, by any chance, have a –"

"Mind blocking drink?" asked Tia, laughing slightly. "No. But de gypsy, Valentina, she be on Rambleshack, she have one. You buy from her, barter, with three gold coins. Alas, I won't be able to read your mind… or hear your secrets."

_Yeah, and I know your secret, Calypso,_ thought Jack. Tia looked up from her table. Jack gave her a small grin and walked out. Gibbs gave him a look that suggested that he was asking, 'Did you get the information?' Jack looked back, 'I have it all.'

"Jack Sparrow!" _Damn._ Jack turned around and walked right back in. "I be needing payment."

"Erm…I'll _bring_ you payment, next time," Jack said. Tia Dalma narrowed her eyes.

"And what of the gold idol you took for me before you went to Pelegosto, mm?"

Jack froze, his mouth in a half-grin. "Erm…It's back on the ship, love. After Pelegosto, we'd had only one thing in mind: getting somewhere – _slightly_ – safer."

At this Tia heaved out a breath. "Next time, Jack Sparrow, you must bring it."

"Wait – you don't know if I'll bring it or not? That means… So you _can't_ see into the future?"

"Not unless the object I am searching for is willing," said Tia. Jack grinned.

"In that case, I best be off," he said. Once he walked out, he spoke to Gibbs. "Let's put this swamp to our rudder and never return, savvy?"

Gibbs nodded. "And if in the future you need to go?"

"That's not my problem as of now. My mind is not willing," said Jack. As he walked off, Tia Dalma spoke to herself. _De crocodile what follows will find its victim, soon enough…_

-o-o-o-

They ship was moving through the water faster than expected. The water was unusually calm, and yet the wind was roaring through the sails. Jack was pleased – he didn't care that something strange was probably happening to allow that fast speed (nor did he know that the crocodile had _somehow_ followed him that far, across the bay), but only that he was on his way to rid himself of one of his nemeses, Jolly Roger. And get the _Pearl_ back.

"Ah, Rambleshack," said Jack. "Looks like we made it back here…again."

"Looks like it, Cap'n," said Gibbs. Four of the pirates in Jack's crew hopped down and tied the _Wandering Compass_ to the dock.

The two got off and walked through, Jack in his usual sashay, and Gibbs trailing behind him, his back slightly hunched. On their way to the prison, Jack spoke quietly with Gibbs. "You know, our one ship is getting much too small… perhaps I shall ride with this _girl_ on a separate ship, while you lot follow, back to Tortuga, eh? What say you to that?"

"Do we _have_ a separate ship?"

"No," said Jack, "but I'm sure I can barter off a passage with…someone." Jack walked to a group of men on the deck and began asking them. "Pardon me, mate, but I, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, Pirate Lord, have a small question regarding the passenger-ship of your galleon, here."

"Shut up, Sparrow."

Jack turned to Gibbs. "Hey, that wasn't nice! He didn't call me Captain!"

"Next one, Jack," said Gibbs patiently.

"Right. You, sailor, care to host a Pirate Lord and his…_current_… bonny lass to Tortuga?"

The sailor grunted and walked off.

"He seemed polite," said Gibbs quietly. Then, out of nowhere, a fat, short, little, and scruffy-looking man ran to Jack. He wore blue sailor's garb and had a blue bandana tied around his forehead like a headband.

"Mate, did I hear correctly, that you was the great Pirate Lord, Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Jack beamed, turning to Gibbs: "At least _one_ person here knows who he's talking to!" Then, he turned back to the fat little man. "Aye, mate, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

"I would be honoured, sir, to take you aboard me small vessel, with _whomsoever_ you wish to bring along!"

Jack grinned. "How much?"

"Erm…" the man pondered this for a few moments. "Just a few gold doubloons, mate. Tha's all. How about, three?"

_That's a small amount_, thought Jack, nonetheless, he happily obliged. _Better small than pricey._

"Aye," Jack said, giving the man three coins. "What did you say your name was?"

"Uh, Bo Beck," said the man.

"Ah, Mister Beck," said Jack. "Very well, then, I shall meet you in due course. Give it a couple of hours, maybe three."

"Of course, sir," said the man. Jack couldn't help but notice a nervous air about him, but tarried on.

"Perhaps you should check about this man in the tavern, eh?"

"And risk being caught by Jolly Roger?" asked Jack. "No…"

"There'll be a fair share o' rum," said Gibbs. "And the crew 'n I will be sure to keep a watch out fer 'im."

Jack considered this. "All's fair in rum and war, eh?"

"Wasn't it Love and War?"

"I changed tha' just now," said Jack, walking further off with Gibbs. "Time we go to tha' prison."

In the front of the prison, two Navy guards once stood. Now, they lay in their chairs, snoring like mad. "Either the government's very poor, or these two rum-soaked idgits have no sense o' duty. No matter, works for me," said Jack. Gibbs shrugged. Jack pushed the door open – _CREAK_ – and silently tiptoed in.

No one came rushing upstairs. Jack heard sounds downstairs – moaning, coughing – and shuddered. He grabbed a torch off the wall and descended through the circular stairs. The torch, he noticed, was the only source of light – and it was upstairs. Apart from that, the prison cells were pitch dark, except for the few lights that came through the barred windows. Jack held his torch up, and the faces of the dangerous-looking fugitives pressed against the barred doors.

"Man, man, man," Jack said, identifying the gender in each of the cells as he walked, first looking at the cells to his right, then moving around the back to count the cells on his other side. "Man, man, man, Mercedes, man, man –"

Jack paced back a couple of steps. _Mercedes?_ Jack looked through the bars. Sure enough, there Mercedes sat, huddled in a corner against the stone wall, her face pale white. "Mercy, love!"

Mercedes looked up. "What the –"

"Are these lot always asleep?" Jack pointed at a Navy guard sitting beneath a hidden torch in the chamber. Mercedes nodded. "Then why don't you all run a-"

"Would what we could," said Mercedes. "The keys are held by the warden. The warden lives in Port Nassau."

"Oh," said Jack. "Well, you're really stupid, then." Jack walked up to the cell. "Yup, these are…thin. You on'y have to kick 'em down."

Mercedes gave him a funny look. "My feet are numb. You do it."

"Righ', scoot to that side. Yes, there," he said. "Watch out!" Jack walked back, then ran forward – _BANG, BANG, BANG!_ The door clattered to the ground. Jack looked around. No one had seen him to be able to do it. _Let the prisoners stay prisoners_, he thought as he walked into the cell. "Come out, Mercedes."

She took a hold of his hand, hers limp and weak, and slowly followed him out. When they made it outside, she squinted. "It's so – bright!"

"It's seven o' clock," said Jack. "It's darkenin' down."

"Maybe it is for you," said Mercedes, smiling. "Thank you." She leaned in and kissed his chee. Jack grinned.

"Will I be getting more?" asked Jack. Mercedes merely shook her head with a small smile.

"Oh, Jack, what'll I ever do with you?"

"I don' know," he said. _I really _don't_ know_, he thought. "What say you an' I go an' get ourselves some rum, eh?"

"Sounds good," said Mercedes. "If it'll give me warmth."

Jack took this as an opportunity. "I can give you warmth."

Mercedes ignored that as she continued on. "Jack, I'll help you do anything – _anything_, really, I swear."

Jack held a pointer to his chin. "I know! I'll hold you to me credit – an' any time I call on you…"

"I'll come," said Mercedes. "Professionally, only, mate."

"Fine," Jack grumbled. _You _will_ come to my side_… "Starting wiv' the tavern, righ' mate?"

She nodded. "I thought we established that already."

Jack pushed the door to the tavern open – and an Asian woman slapped Jack's face, cursing in Chinese. Mercedes' eyebrows were raised, as Jack shrugged and looked at her. "Don't think I _deserve_ that one…Lin?" The Asian woman slapped him again. "Oh, yeah, Tai-yu, eh?"

The woman slapped him a third time.

"STOP IT!" Jack held his red cheek. Mercedes was laughing silently.

"_Mei_," said the woman, stalking off.

"Oh, yeah," said Jack. "Shoulda known her name. 'Course, she was one o' many in Singapore."

"Mm, and you expect me to warm _your_ bed, eh?" Mercedes asked, trying to calm down from laughing.

Jack shrugged, walking to the bartender. "Gimme two jugs o' rum."

The bartender shoved two jugs in Jack's hand. "That'll be two doubloons, eh?"

"Make it one," said Jack.

"TWO!" Jack cringed a bit, and then stuffed two doubloons in his hand. "Thanks, mate. I don't got much." Jack nodded, turned around and saw –

Raja. Only, Raja had a turban on his head, his skin had gotten darker, and his yellow grin looked sillier than before. Jack burst out laughing. "_Raja_?"

"It's Leech, now," said Raja. "Going by a new name – the Navy's after me."

"Yeah, well, you don't 'ave tha' good of a disguise, mate, it's too _pitiful_!" Jack continued laughing. Leech's smile grew smaller. "Righ', righ', all righ'. Where's Gibbs?"

"He has to talk to you." Jack walked forward, Mercedes following. Leech turned: "In private."

"I'll wait here," said Mercedes, sitting at a Blackjack table. Jack shrugged and walked to Gibbs.

"Aye, mate. What'd you hear 'bout this…Bo Beck?"

"Didja get the woman?"

"Believe it or not, it was Mercedes," said Jack.

"_That's_ unexpected," said Gibbs.

"All evidence pointing to the contrary, mate," said Jack. "Now, pray tell about this _Bo Beck_."

"Right, right," said Gibbs. "Well, after weaselin' out some information from the bartender, 'is name is Doggerel Dan, told me that Bo Beck had been paid by Jolly Roger to take you directly to him."

Jack was silent for a moment. "Think Mercedes feet'll be warm at this time?'

"You want to push a woman into this?"

"Not just _any_ woman, mate, Mercedes Shackleton. An assassin what would make a good pirate, eh?"

"Right," said Gibbs.

"Besides, I think she turned pirate the moment the Navy put a price on her pretty head," said Jack, more or less to himself. "We'll work this out."

"Sir?" asked a nervous voice. Jack turned to see Bo Beck standing beside him.

"Aye?" Jack asked coldly.

"Mind gettin' on me ship?"

"Look, mate, I know where you're sending me to," said Jack. "Here." Jack shoved a giant bag of gold. Bo Beck's eyes sparkled. "See my girl, over there? 'Er name's Mercedes. Since ol' Roger hasn't got a _thing_ against her, I'm sure he'll be just fine leaving her alive. You think you can take 'er in my place? I got some ship-refurbishing to do…"

Bo Beck pondered this. "It _is_ a lot of gold, mate."

"Aye," said Jack. "I'm a rich man, Pirate Lord, mate – and don't you forget it."

The ground began to shake. "Maybe I should get ready."

"Aye, and I'll send Mercedes." People ran out of the tavern, screaming. A cannonball flew through the air. "Mister Gibbs!"

"Aye, sir!"

"Prepare the _Wandering Compass_. We leave as _soon_ as Mercedes is prepared."

"Aye, Cap'n! Oh, an' Doggerel Dan'll have something for her, I think."

"Good man," Jack said. He walked to Mercedes. "Love, listen to me. You're going to board ol' Beck's ship. He ought to drop you off at Tortuga. I'll meet you there, savvy?"

"What? Not on your ship? I wanted to go on the _Pearl_ –"

Jack sighed. _She doesn't know about the mutiny_. "You can't. Nor can I."

"What?"

"I'll explain in Tortuga," said Jack. "Go to Doggerel Dan before you go – he'll give you wha' you need…though I have _no idea_ wha' _tha'_ is…"

"Bo Beck's ship?"

"I think it's called the _Caravan_. Yup, tha's it."

Mercedes nodded and turned to go to the bartender. Jack struggled to run out of the tavern (the ground shook far too much) and got on board the _Wandering Compass_, leaving Mercedes behind.


	16. Twisted Plots

**A/N:** _I got messages from a few of you – not as reviews, though – wondering about what happened to Valentina, the gypsy, on Rambleshack. As for that, you'll have to read on to find out what happens! Oh yes, and sorry for the lack of update! I've been a tad busy…with my Pirates Online game! Okay, read on, do please __**review**__, and enjoy!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Sixteen**

Twisted Plots

"Bugger." Jack, inside the cabin of the _Wandering Compass_, spotted a small golden idol. _Tia Dalma…_But he was sure Valentina was not on Rambleshack! It was such a small island that, standing outside the tavern, you could see anyone – everyone – and every_thing_. Jack was also worried about Mercedes – _and_ Bo Beck – and wondered what on earth would happen next.

-o-o-o-

Dinnertime. Elizabeth didn't speak a word, as was expected of her. She was a young girl, and females were expected to leave the talking to men. Will sat directly across from her, dressed in clothes from the servant quarters, as that was all that was available and the initial idea of lending him Elizabeth's clothes simply did not do.

Will was obviously not used to the regular decorum as seen around him: Lieutenant Norrington was dressed in some of the most elaborate clothes he had ever seen (Will wondered if that was even uniform), the Governor had a majestic scarlet coat with buttons made of pure gold, and Elizabeth had on a purple gown with small silver buttons down the front, her hair swept in an elegant updo. Looking about the room wildly, his eyes opened wide, Will felt completely out of place.

That night they discussed what was to become of Will, and with his fate being pushed around the table, he sank lower and lower into the chair.

The governor munched on a roll of bread as he spoke. "Well, I –_ gulp_ – would like to know what sort of life young Mister Turner over here was accustomed to in…where was it, you said? Perth?"

"Erm – I was born in Glasgow, Scotland, and last year I moved to… Perth," Will mumbled off.

Norrington raised his eyebrows, his glass of wine raised to his mouth, snorting as his head turned away.

"Interesting family history," said Governor Swann. "Well, what did you do?"

"I helped my mum with running our shop," said Will. "It was a small tai –"

"Sorry?" asked Norrington. "Running a shop?"

Elizabeth gave Norrington a look, but he merely shrugged. Will felt as though he was punched in the face.

"Do continue, Will," said Elizabeth with a kindly smile.

"Of course, Miss Swann," said Will quietly. Elizabeth frowned slightly when he addressed her as 'Miss Swann,' but let him continue. "My father would not come home often – only every two, three, four, maybe even five years. Of course, that which he hauled in from his merchant sailing didn't give us enough to last more than a year, so I helped my mum with her tailor shop, handling money and cleaning and doing things of the like." _Often we were robbed by pirates, too…_Will shuddered. He _hated_ pirates, before he went on the voyage to Kingston (which had ended badly, sending him to Port Royal instead), and much more after said voyage.

"Ah," said Governor Swann.

"Well, that is hardly enough for a man," said Norrington suddenly. At this, both the governor and his daughter gave him a look, but Norrington pressed on. "Mister Turner, what do you think of the East India Trading Company?"

Will shrugged.

"He could be a clerk to one of the Lords here, you know," said Norrington. The Governor shook his head.

"He has no title!"

And so they went on, listing different jobs that could be held as Will stared, not hungry, at his plate that held naught but bland foods and grapes. _Could life be any worse?_

"Are you bored?" asked Elizabeth quietly. Will shrugged again. "You've _got_ to be verbal if you want to survive in Port Royal, you know."

"Not among those who are higher than my place," said Will simply, with a small smile. Elizabeth shook her head, looking away.

-o-o-o-

Mercedes, Jack's coat around her tightly, hurried onto the _Caravan_ as Rambleshack was consumed in fire, sea-water, and ground tremors (Doggerel Dan had told her it was normal, there, but visitors were not accustom to losing money and other items of sentimental value). Bo Beck fidgeted, nervous, as for why, Mercedes had not a clue.

"Listen," she said, as Beck scrambled aboard the deck, doing all the ship work on his own. "How do you plan on getting to Tortuga all by yourself?"

"I've got you, innit?" asked Beck, his forehead dripping sweat. Mercedes shook her head.

"This is a _paid fare_!"

"Aye, lass, but t'won't be easy gettin' ter Tortuga on me own, you know," he said. "We might get sunk by a Navy vessel." _Or worse_.

"Right," said Mercedes. "Then _I'll _take the helm…"

"No," said Beck. "The ship's creakin' as it is, taking the helm would be disastrous."

Mercedes heaved a sigh and wrapped rope around the anchor Beck pulled up. "Right, let's go."

-o-o-o-

Jack's compass swerved, every five minutes, from the east to the west, and vice-versa. Jack wanted two things at once – Valentina, the gypsy, for her potion, and the _Pearl_. The _Pearl_, he knew he'd never get. But as to which one was which – as to whether Valentina was east or west – he had no idea.

Jack took his chances, and moved west. West, west… Until he had fallen asleep, somehow, at the helm. He snored on the wheel, only to be woken up by a yelling and screaming crew. Jack looked up, groggy, and sprung into action – the ship almost crashed into the docks of Padres Del Fuego, the Volcano Island.

The ship was finally saved, and Jack walked down to the poop deck, ready to walk directly onto the deck. "Erm, Cap'n?" asked Gibbs. He pointed at Jack's mouth. Jack gave him a strange look and touched the side of his mouth –

_Oh. _Drool. He wiped it off. "You didn't _see_ anything." The crew nodded, shrugging, murmuring in assent as he stalked off.

"Valentina?" Jack yelled. He heard a murmuring as two sergeants leaning against a tavern door pointed and looked at him.

"What the…?" One of them pointed at him with a suspicious look.

_Inconspicuous, Jackie, tha's the ticket… No it _isn't_, you dolt! Just shoot 'em and go! No, I won't, sorry, mate. Fine, be that way, Jackie, and –_

"I said, can I help you?" Her accent was like that of Tia Dalma's, her white hair tied neatly in a bun, keeping stray hair out of her dark face and eyes.

"You know Tia Dalma?"

A long pause followed before Valentina continued. "I do."

"She told me I could get some mind-blocking potion from you. I hate it when she looks in my… brain," said Jack, shuddering.

"Did she also tell you that you'd have to sell me your soul?"

"'_SCUSE_ me?"

"Not literally," she added. "But you have a lot of work to do. See, the ingredients are _very_ hard to find, Captain Sparrow –"

"You know my name?"

"You have yet to block your mind. As I said, they are _very_ hard to find, and a man of your _presumed_ notoriety should have no problem acquiring them."

Jack heaved out a sigh. This would take a while.


	17. To Tortuga

**A/N:** _Hey! Sorry I haven't updated in… a few months. We moved, school started, I played Pirates Online, and I was busy drinking Orange Juice. But here's your FABULOUS new chapter! Read, __**review**__, and enjoy!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Seventeen**

To Tortuga

"_HEAVE!_" Mercedes scowled at Beck. Right old pig, he was being, and giving her no reason not to kill him, except that he needed to finish the sailing to Tortuga.

She could see the island – looked to be about the size of a small Rumrunner's Isle somewhere – from the _Caravan_.

"THAT AIN'T GOOD ENOUGH! HEA – "

"_MIGHT_ I REMIND YOU THAT I'M ONE OF THE _MOST _WANTED ASSASSINS IN THE CARIBBEAN AND I'VE _HALF_ A MIND TO SHOOT YOU RIGHT HERE AND NOW AND _TAKE_ YOUR BLOODY SHIP FOR MYSELF?"

Beck went silent.

Mercedes let out a sharp breath and continued, "Beck, I've been given a _paid fare_ – should amount to _something_, at the least, I do think. And so I ask that you at the very least give me less –"

She was cut off by a sudden lightning bolt hitting the mast of the _Caravan_. The ship jolted to a stop as the mast split in two, creating a crack in the hull, and she fell down. _That's odd, lightning? On a perfectly sunny day?_ She pulled herself up, stopping to look at her bruised elbow. _Oh, sh –_

A ship pulled itself out of the water as if the gods were pulling up a marionette on a string. It was a ghastly sight: not only did the ship appear to be deteriorated, but it also reeked of horrible odors that one would smell while sitting next to an unearthed corpse. With another flash of lightning, that cracked the hull neatly into two separating pieces, a disgusting creature – a skeleton – wearing ragged clothing, a somewhat torn hat with two poker cards stuck to it, snakes for dreadlocks, and weapons for hands, appeared on the _Caravan._ The port rail of the ship next to them, the _Revenge_, was lined with scabby corpses that jumped and writhed as if alive.

The creature on the _Caravan_ advanced towards Beck, an angry gleam in its eye; Mercedes, not sure what to make of all of this, held a hand to her mouth and gasped. This caused the creature to turn and see her.

"Ah, what have we here?" the creature walked in large strides to Mercedes, who was cowering by the cannon. "A young woman, is it?" Mercedes looked in the monsters eyes. They looked quite familiar… "What's your name?"

"M-m-m," she said, stuttering out. _Those eyes, those eyes…_ But she couldn't place them in her memory. "Mercedes Sh-shackleton."

The eyes grew wider. "These eyes… they're temporary," he said. But Mercedes knew there was something about them that she could judge to be his. "I stole them from one of my crew, and they look the way they used to." He sounded less fierce now. "Mercedes, do you remember me?"

Mercedes was shaking violently, trying to shake her head as if to say no, but unable to. The creature was hideous. The creature looked ahead of her, into the horizon, as it thought of its past.

"I didn't mean to hurt your brother."

Mercedes gasped with realization. "_Greythorne_," she said, trying desperately not to scream.

"Yes," he said. "Only, now I go by the name _Jolly Roger_. Because after you shot me, my friend, a gypsy named Ammo Dorsi, resurrected me and gave me new life. Then I came back, first to become a Pirate Lord, hopefully then would I have your heart. But then, that _idiot_ Jack Sparrow –"

"HE IS _NOT_ AN IDIOT!" yelled Mercedes. Roger swerved around and looked her in the eye. "I'd wished you dead for eternity that day, and forever will. Go burn those eyes."

Roger roared in a mad fright. Mercedes turned a ghastly pale and crawled without looking. Screaming, she almost fell in the opening between the two split hull parts, through which she would've been trapped. "You will pay for this. For all of this," he said. With another flash of lightning, a plank of wood was cracked from the hull and set out a bit from the gaping hole of the hull. "You're to walk this plank, else I'll kill you."

As Mercedes walked slowly to the starboard rail, she looked over at Bo Beck, who was trying to get off the _Caravan_ by getting off the back. "DON'T THINK I'VE FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU!" Roger yelled. Beck simpered and looked up. "_Why_ isn't Jack Sparrow on this ship?"

Mercedes looked at Roger with a questioning eye. _Thank goodness he didn't see that…_

"'E paid me more than you did, 'course, 'ere's yer money back, a righ' guarantee…"

"_You_ think I want _money_? I rule the seas!" A hurricane began to form; Roger looked down sheepishly. "I will hurry, Davy Jones comes." He pulled out his pistol-hand and shot Beck down with a nice, clean move.

Mercedes jumped ship and swam to Tortuga, which was in clear sight, leaving Beck writhing on deck. With a cackle, Roger swung onto his ship and pulled back into the seas. Mercedes grabbed a plank of wood and floated, still in utter shock. No death had ever affected her like this.

-o-o-o-

Jack sat alone in the longboat on his way out of the unmarked island. He had told his crew to wait on the _Wandering Compass_, because he intended on bartering the items Valentina had asked for from a native and tell the crew he killed creatures to get it.

Two other figments of his sat in front of and behind him as he rowed, slowly, out of the swamps.

"Tell me, Captain, what do you intend on doing after drinking this potion-beastie, eh?"

Jack thought to himself for a little while. "Well, I _have_ heard of a Chinese treasure…"

"Treasure's good, very good," said the one behind him. "But of course, you'll need to know how to get it –"

"And who to get it from," said the one in front of him.

"That's easy," Jack said to himself. "I shall ask _Calypso_…"

"Lady fish?"

"Aye, that's the one, Jackie," said the one from behind. "Well, as long as you know what you're to do –"

"And if you know how to do it," said the other, "you'll be fine."

A snarl.

Jack whipped his head around as the two figments of himself disappeared and saw a scaly line of boulders sitting behind his boat. Jack moved forward by a few meters and looked: the boulders were right behind him, once more. The jaw opened, and –

"AYYYYYYYYY!" a _real_ boulder landed on the crocodile's mouth, trapping it shut. Jack looked behind him: it was one of the natives. "You all right, mate?"

Jack nodded, heaving out a sigh. "Thank you, my Mollusk-People-chief," Jack said, straightening up. "Warm regards from the Pelegostos," he added, on sudden thought.

The Mollusk Chief nodded and turned to his followers, speaking in clicks and other strange sounds. Then he turned to Jack. "We will keep it here. We'll name him… _Mister Grin_. And he will eat any whites that come here." Jack gulped. "Except for you, for you have an alliance with us as chief of our cousins."

Jack nodded, deciding to clamber onto his ship, which loomed right ahead. He swung from the rigging to the helm, ready to set sail for Padres del Fuego.

Something was nagging him on the inside. _Mercedes_, he thought. In fact, she wouldn't leave his thoughts. Hopefully after he drank the potion (which he hoped wouldn't be bitter like all of Tia Dalma's potions), he could go to Tortuga and see if she was all right.

Hopefully, he wouldn't be found out and slapped by her.

Hopefully, he wouldn't be intercepted by any of his nemeses. But that was too unlikely: they'd show up, no matter what he'd try.

Time was running out for Captain Sparrow.


	18. Fate Intervenes

**A/N:** _Okay, next major update! The last chapter was just a sort of bridge between sixteen and eighteen, a "set up", if you will, for what's to come ;) I would've updated sooner, but school took a lot of time – sorry! Since it's winter break, though, I can definitely work on this. I also hope you noticed the crossover between Peter and the Starcatchers with Pirates of the Caribbean! So, read, __**review**__ and enjoy!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Eighteen**

Fate Intervenes

"WILLIAM!" yelled a voice. _Brown_, thought Will, running to his new post in the Blacksmith's forge.

"Yes, Master Brown?"

"You are my apprentice, it seems," said Brown. _This is the same tirade that has been played over and over for the last five days… Idiot doesn't stop drinking_, thought Will, sitting down, relaxed, examining the first sword he made. "Let me tell you how things are run around here…"

Will looked at the blade. It wasn't the best sword in the world, uneven here and there, but he was so proud of it. His fingers tried to grasp the hilt, which was also uneven, as he ran a pointer long the blunt blade.

"…which is why we'll make your first… erm… second…" said Brown, collapsing onto his chair, unconscious. Will stood up and took a newly forged sword and set it as a model for his second sword.

_BANG – KNOCK!_

"What the…?" Will swerved to look at the door. A young girl, neither much older nor younger than he, collapsed through the door. She brushed her golden-chestnut hair out of her face and straightened her dirty, dark dress. It was apparent that she was not of the upper class but of the same as – or lower than – Will.

"Sorry!" She said, frightened, trying to shut the door unsuccessfully.

"Don't worry about it," Will said, walking to the door. He found the complicated latch-work. "You do it like this. Come inside."

The girl stumbled inside, looking about curiously. "What's your name?"

"William Turner," said Will.

"William," she acknowledged.

"You can call me Will," he said with a smile. "And you?"

"Victoria Larson," she said.

"Where do you reside?"

At this, Victoria looked down. "I… I don't know."

Will silently chuckled to himself, but realized she was being honest upon looking at Victoria's expression. "Then… what're you doing in Port Royal?"

Victoria silently turned to the door. "I shouldn't be keeping you from your work. I – I'll go now."

"No, no, stay. You may not have a home, but at least you'll need a friend." He offered a hand. Victoria shook it and smiled. "Look, it's one thing that you don't have a… home, and it's another that you're in Port Royal… dangerous place for a girl to stay alone."

"But I don't stay alone!"

"Really?"

"Well, I've made friends with this woman – I think we're friends, anyway – and she lets me stay in her room every night."

"Where does she live?"

"Erm – I think it's the House of the… House of the Rising Sun."

Will choked on his spit. _The brothel?_ "You mustn't stay there. Do you even know what kinds of women are there?"

"No…" she said. "I'm sorry, I just got here, you know. Why, what kinds of w–"

"They sell themselves." Victoria gasped. "Yes, I know, it's a harsh life for them. I'm actually shocked that they encouraged _you_ – a girl of my age, I'm guessing – to live with them. Horrible people."

"Marie shielded me from it all. I had no idea."

"So you're on a first-name basis with them?" Will asked, incredulous.

"All I know is that they welcomed me in when I knew no one," said Victoria. Will sighed.

"Well, it's best you stay somewhere safe. Somewhere… better," said Will, thinking hard to himself. "I know… I'm a good friend of the Governor's daughter, Elizabeth." Victoria nodded excitedly, with a guess as to where this was going. "Perhaps I could speak with her about allowing you to stay with them until we can find out where you're to go."

"Yes… but they won't want to… not after they know _why _I'm here…"

"And what's that?"

"I… I don't think I'm ready to tell you, Will," said Victoria. "After all, I barely know you. Perhaps another time." Will stared after her as she walked out the door. "And thank you."

The door slammed shut, leaving Will pondering the arrival of this new mystery and how to solve her.

-o-o-o-

Unfortunately for the Mollusk Chief, Jack had managed to swipe the little bottle of what Valentina called "Gut Water" that was dangling from his loincloth. Apparently they came from giant Fly Traps that ate humans, but Jack had never gone so far as to see one. "Got it!" He yelled as he hopped aboard the poop deck.

"Ah," said Gibbs, examining the phial in close. The liquid glowed, making it look like the bottle contained the liquid insides of a star. His eyes sparkled at the sight of it. "Is that all we need, Cap'n?"

"Yes," Jack said, looking into the setting sun of the horizon. The pink clouds were traveling into the light, the ocean still sparkling. His mind was on one thing: Mercedes. If she died, he wasn't sure what would happen next – if he'd be tied somehow to Davy Jones in a worse fate. If she lived, she would probably kill him. Then resurrect him. Then kill him again.

Either way, it wouldn't work out for Jack. But out of the two, he hoped Mercedes was alive. She owed him, at any rate. It wasn't his problem what happened to her along the way, was it?

"Well?" Jack snapped out of it.

"Wha', Mister Gibbs, did you say to my rather preoccupied self?"

"Shall we set sail for –"

"Ah, yes, then, well, let me go ahead and erm… HOIST THE SAILS! FULL OUT! WITH A WILL, GENTS! WE ARE HEADED TO…erm…PADRES ONCE MORE!"

Jack nodded to himself. "Righ'. Leas' we know what to expect."

"And that would be…?" Gibbs asked.

"Harshness, mate. From Mercy, or Davy Jones, at any rate. Times've come to tha' which proves me the villain, yet, still, all evidence to the contrary."

"Uh huh," said Gibbs. "Erm…we're expecting…"

"Look, Mister Gibbs, all you've to know is that we've got to get to Padres, and nothing more nor less than that we've to get to Padres, for if you know, that we must get to Padres enables us to get _somewhere_, and inevitably, to Padres, after which, of course, we would head out to Tortuga… but still…"

Gibbs shrugged and walked to the helm. _I'm not going to try to understand him_.

-o-o-o-

It tasted like sticky, old sweat. It was a greyish colour and it smelled like rotten tomatoes. Jack gagged by just drinking one drop. But, according to Valentina, he had to drink the entire three gallons in one shot or he'd lose his window of opportunity. Every time he gulped, it sounded like a mass of glue-like, grey paste plopped down his throat and blocked it. The crew shuddered with every _plop_ that sounded. Valentina seemed only to enjoy the torture Jack had to endure.

Finally, it was over. Jack's eyes widened and then got smaller. And then again. And again. And he looked as though he was struggling to speak. "Cap'n?" Gibbs asked, hesitant, stepping forward.

"Captain Sparrow?" asked Leech, baring his yellow teeth at Valentina.

"Blecch," is all Jack could say in return. "It seems to me that a…. cup of rum… is in or–"

"_No_," she yelled, slapping Jack's hand away from the bottle of rum. "No. You cannot drink for another three days. No liquids – no rum, no water, no _nothing_."

Jack yelped and fell into a faint.


	19. An Old Friend

**A/N:** _Again, I'm still working on a bridger, but you can obviously see where the new character ties in. And now we're ready for Jack to make his advancements in the story. Read, review, and enjoy!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Nineteen**

An Old Friend

The doors to the Faithful Bride burst open, and the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean walked in. Immediately there was a silence. Jack knew not why, but assumed that it was because people thought silence would pay respects to him. But he realized this was not so with a loud _slap_ that was issued by a certain female, which prompted him to fall back and knock over a man's bottle of rum, which prompted the man to hit someone else, and restart the ongoing bar brawl.

"OW!" Jack yelled. He looked up to see the identity of the woman who slapped him and woes betide him for he realized that his guess was correct: it was Mercedes.

"You son of a –"

"Shh, now, love. Wha' happened?"

"Why you – you sent me out on a suicide mission! I owe you nothing anymore –"

"Correction, my dear Mercy –"

"Stop calling me that!"

"Mercedes, then. If I am correct, and I usually am, I believe your exact words were 'I owe you my life –'"

"No, I said 'I'll help you do anything.'"

"Ah, yes, well then you're only confirming my point."

"Yes, but I didn't agree to put myself in a situation in which I would get killed!"

"I believe tha' falls under the category of 'anything,' my dear. You've go' to make sure you know wha' you're talkin' about."

Mercedes grudgingly kept silent. "Fine."

"Exactly," said Jack. "So how did your passage fare? Apart from whatever…"

"Well, apart from me almost being killed by a certain skeleton-like creature that said its name was Jolly Roger, my companion, Captain Beck, was murdered by a lightning bolt."

Jack chuckled.

"Shut up." Jack stopped. Mercedes was shaking. "I learned later then that… Roger was actually someone from my past."

At this point Jack's mouth hung open. _Shit_.

"And that someone would be…?"

Mercedes kept silent once more. _Best not to reveal everything. I could use it._

"Fine, anything else?"

"Yes, upon coming here, I was given this," Mercedes said, pushing out a chest. Jack gasped. It was _his_ chest. "My sister, Ralphina was here. She told me that a certain old friend of yours asked her to give it to you."

"Who was this friend of mine?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Something like…. Bootstrap?"

Jack's eyes welled. He wiped his eyes. "Allergies, you know." Mercedes nodded, unconvinced. "And erm… how and when?"

"Ralphina was on her way here, to Tortuga, when she _claims_ a ship came out of the water. Highly doubt it. There was a ship next to hers that was sinking and this ship came out of the water. And then while the captain of said ship was talking – or threatening, she says – the members of the crew of the ship what sunk, this man came on board her ship. And his skin had a greenish tinge, like he was sick or didn't have enough sun for himself. And he gave her the chest and said 'Find Captain Jack Sparrow and give this to him, in any way you can. And promise me you'll tell him that I sent it.' That's all I know."

Jack sat down, shocked. "Right."

"No, really. You think I'm this creative to come up and fabricate a story on the spot?"

"Why not? I am," said Jack. Immediately he wanted to take it back. "I shouldn't've said tha'. Erm… all of me stories are true. Regardless –"

"Uh huh," said Mercedes. "Well, anyway, that's what I was told and this is all I have for you. OI, BARTENDER! ONE BIG GLASS!" The man shrugged and stuffed one in her hand.

"What happened to Evelyn?"

"She's… gone."

"And are you going to explain the 'Sister' thing between the two of you… ever?"

"Later."

"I'd like to hear it. Now."

"No, you… go through your chest or something."

Jack made a sour face and looked back down. "Fine."

The clasp was rusted shut. He snatched Mercedes' dagger from the table and opened it without damaging the lock. Everything was intact. The first thing his eyes jumped to was the small notebook in the bottom. "_Mum_," he said.

"What?"

"Nothin'," said Jack, focusing on the notebook. "Erm, look, I need some time alone –"

"I'm not moving, Jack. I promise I won't bother you until you're finished."

"All right," Jack said.

He only ever remembered reading the front page. _Save the rest of the notebook for when you need it most_.

_Is that now?_ Jack wondered silently. _Well, it must be. The time seems to be right. I got it back now, so…_

He peeled back the first page and saw another entry.

_Dear Jack,_

_My dear son, I am so afraid of how long I have with you. Time will be rough to me, I know that. But I have a lot to tell you. These are the lessons of life that you can learn from me, or the hard way, by yourself. But I love you so I will tell you here._

_First off, the world is not a fair place._

"Yes, I know," Jack mused.

"Pardon?" asked Mercedes.

"Ahem," Jack said, pointing at the book. Mercedes rolled her eyes and went back to her drink.

_It is filled with villains. Villains just like your father._

_What_? Jack thought. _I thought you loved him._

_Yes, I loved him,_ said the letter as if to answer his thoughts. _But that was for the shortest of times. I could never really comprehend being what I was after I met him._

_You see, your father had me give him pleasure by force. It was not what I wanted or intended. Then, he had forced me into what you may call prostitution. After I gave birth to you, it was a different deal. "We are family," he said. "You must save yourself for me and myself and I."_

Jack's mouth hung open. He clutched his chest and could feel his heart beating at the rate of what he was sure his mother's heart was beating at the time. He had always idolized his father. It couldn't be possible. None of this was possible. Not ever.

_I know you mustn't believe me, and I understand that. But there is something you have to do for me._

Jack thought to himself. _Yes, anything._

_Your father has a certain key on his person. He actually has several, but there is one in particular that you must find. The key head is in the shape of a fleur-de-lys. Now, once you find this key, come back to the house you used to live in. I don't know if I am alive when you read this. This is for the future, do remember. But the house will always be in our possession; I know that for a fact. I cannot explain why now, but you will stumble across it when the time is right._

_Now, there is a chest in our house. There are several chests, you will remember. But there will be one, somewhere in the house (things move a lot. Be wary.) with a fleur de lys hidden on the lock. You stick this key in the lock, and you will find what you need to do next._

_You will find an old friend, if you do as I ask. This friend is important to you, will be most important to you in the future. __Do not lose it__. I beg of you, my son, this is all I have for you._

_I'm so sorry._

_Love,_

_Your Mother_

"Well?" Mercedes asked. "Tired of sitting on the side. And I'm _certainly_ not going to do your bidding, if it involves my death, and –"

"Where's the adventure in any of that safe play?" asked Jack. Mercedes shook her head and looked away.

"Then what are we going to do?" Mercedes asked after a pause. She leaned in as Jack beckoned her closer.

"We're going after the Pirate Lord of Madagascar."


	20. The Orphans

**A/N:** _I've only ever been receiving a __few__ reviews so please do review. Thanks!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Twenty**

The Orphans

"Mister Lockewood, if you would be so kind as to pick up the scotch imports," said a drawling voice. Lockewood grimaced and bowed down prior to leaving to get the scotch.

"Now, Mister Mercer, to our business," said the voice quietly.

"Of course, Mister Beckett," said Mercer with a sinister grin. "The latest issue we have had here is an… overpopulation issue."

"I see," said Beckett quietly. "Very well, what is the proposed solution?"

"There is an increase in medicinal value of the children we see here. For, as the body is young, the doctors may examine…"

"Ah," said Beckett. "Very interesting. Well, then, we shall do what is necessary. Post this decree in the squares of every town here in London."

"Very good, sir," said Mercer, opening the pamphlet. "Our short stay here will grant us favourable light in the sight of the King. Which means, of course, you shall be promoted. Good, good."

Beckett gave a sinister grin.

-o-o-o-

A young boy ran as fast as he could through the streets of London. His clothes were now tattered rags and his dirty feet were now covered with blisters. He was looking for a way out – a ways away from London. He looked up at the signpost that he ran, head first, into. "Ship boys needed." _Perfect_, he thought. He went back to his mates under their bridge.

"Oi! You!" two boys sat together, a skinny one and a very, very corpulent one. "You 'ave to answer to us if you want to pass through Peter's Bridge!"

"Ahh!" yelled the fat one.

The boy held his hands up. "Relax, chums, it's only me."

"There you are, Peter! Tubby Ted 'ere's been being a pain up the arse."

"Peter said he'd be sleeping an' – an' he left and I thought that maybe one o' those kid-stealers took you an' –" Tubby Ted started to cry. The skinny one rolled his eyes and looked Peter dead in the face.

"So whatchoo been gone for, eh? We've been waiting here for quite a bit of time, you know. You're almost as slow as a _grandma_."

"Shut up, James. I was lookin' for a way for us to get outta here. I think I found one, too." Peter began to explain about the signpost.

"The Caribbean sounds nice," said James dreamily. Tubby Ted was still whimpering. "Oh shut up, you!"

"Look, I know the rest of the chums are here. We got to get ourselves looking okay, don't you think? Just before we leave for the place. Or we can't get on at all, now, can we? Them sailors may not be clean themselves but they are a helluva hard to persuade, innit?"

James nodded as Tubby Ted wiped his eyes. "There's a good chap," said James, slapping his back.

"Ow!"

"Stop shoving me!"

"You're so full of it!"

There was a rustle in the bushes. "Shut it," Peter said to them.

"You're the idgit!"

"No I'm not, piggy!"

"Shut it," Peter said again. The rustling got louder.

"Stop calling me that!"

"Piggy! Piggy! Pi –"

"SHUT UP!" Peter roared. The rustling stopped along with the bickering. Then, Peter could see two very beady eyes looking up at him from in the bush.

-o-o-o-

It was silent on board the _Wandering Compass_. The crew had remained silent when Jack announced that no one would be touching the rum. He, of course, would not be following this rule. He wanted to save the rum for himself, using the terribly sad messages in the notebook as his lame excuse.

He contented himself to a couple of bottles while he charted his course in his cabin, compass at hand. He never quite thought what would occur should someone have caught him while he was drinking rum – and he certainly did not want to be caught by Anna-Maria or Mercedes. But it was just his terrible luck that Mercedes burst into the room in a full on argument with none other than Anna-Maria.

"No! Just because you so happen to be Jack's – _plaything_ – doesn't mean I have to listen to you!"

"Plaything? How _dare_ you!" Mercedes pulled out her sword. "A duel!"

"You wouldn't want to be fighting with her, mate," Jack said to Anna-Maria.

"And why not?" Mercedes assumed he was talking to her.

"I didn't –"

"Is that _rum_?" Anna-Maria's eyes bugged out. Mercedes' jaws dropped.

"Why you little _cockroach_," Mercedes said.

"You wouldn't want to be fighting me, either," said Jack.

Anna-Maria chose that moment to yank Mercedes' hair and pull her out of the room. They could be heard fighting, and from what Jack could catch, to his large amazement, Anna-Maria was winning.

_This is going to be one long journey…_


	21. Dr Cornelius and The Circus of Freaks

**A/N:**_ Ahh yes, finally! I can start working on this fanfic once more. Pardonnez-moi for my slow, slow tempo. Read, __**review**__, and enjoy!_

-o-o-o-

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Doctor Cornelius and The Circus of Freaks

Jack woke up.

His rum bottle was empty, and oh, how he wished to strangle something. Of course he would. It was nighttime and he still had no clue as to how long it would take to reach…wherever it was he had to reach.

He grumbled and pushed the door open to see Mercedes scowling at Anamaria from the starboard side, then approached Anamaria. "So I take it you two have stopped your fussy arguments, have you?"

Anamaria grinned. "Yes, well. I won."

_Aha! So Mercy isn't all _that_ good as she claims_, Jack thought. _I don't owe her everything then. But she does owe me._ She was Jack's tool, or so he thought. He then turned to see Gibbs's head next to his shoulder. "Mister Gibbs," he said in an awkward and confused tone. "How long will it take to find Teague?"

"Why, Cap'n, he's at Shipwreck Cove, where he oughta be."

"Which means it'll take _how long_, sir?" Jack asked, putting on an air of strength and trying to emit fumes of fear.

"Erm… Another few nights. Maybe just two. Or even one."

"In other words, you are saying that, being the wise ol' first mate you are, no little bit of reckoning or wise…ness… or any bi' of knowledge will otherwise help or suit you to your fancy in order to help you to understand that which we need to understand, which of course I am struggling to understand, because understanding it _is_, in fact, and hard thing to do, due to the fact that we are leaving to a place that we have never, or rather, _I_ have never, ever, ever, seen or visited, an' only ever heard of, mm? And that bit of understanding, you lack. Is that wha' you're saying?"

"Jack," said Gibbs, deciding not to bother with Jack's latest riddle, "I say that I know not of how long it will take to get there, but that it is a fearful and yet exciting place at the same time."

"Fear and excitement. Oh the thrills I shall have!" Jack exclaimed suddenly, then walked to the helm.

Mercedes walked to Jack. "Listen," she said. "I cannot stay on board with _her_."

"_Why_ can you not stay on board with _her_?" Jack demanded.

"It is too hard to explain. High and loose –"

"Raging hormones seems to explain it."

Mercedes sighed, shook her head, and rolled her eyes. "_No_. Look, I'll help you – when the time is right, when it is the correct moment, I will be there fighting at your side, but I simply cannot be on the same deck as someone who – someone who –"

"Someone who beat you?" Jack asked. _Pride. It's a pain up the arse. But she can't leave me… I want her. I want –_

"Yes, that. I am so sorry, Jack. But you must leave me at Shipwreck Cove. It seems I am made to be a pirate, after all."

"Not that you weren't ever," Jack said with a grin. "I thought to myself, the moment I met you, that you were a pirate."

"Lies," she said with a smile. Jack realized there were tears on her face.

"Why do you cry?"

"Because the only fear I possess is the fear of losing."

"Losing… as in a game?"

"I see life as a game. I see…" she paused. "I see _love_ as a game. And the man I love cannot love me in return, because he loves only his soul. He loves only himself, and his escape to freedom."

Jack stopped for a second. "Wait. Wait, what?"

"Just what I said, Jack." _I think I love you_, she thought.

"You… you love me?" Jack felt strangely awkward on the very thought.

She looked at her feet, shaking a little bit, then turned and walked down the steps. Jack struggled at the thought. No one had said _I love you_, or had even attempted to express that particular feeling, to him at his face. Except his mother, of course. _But almost every mother loves his son. Perhaps not Jolly Roger, and definitely not Hector Barbossa. They're too ugly for any mother to love them._

Jack realized the sky was starting to turn a light pink in front of his eyes. Then a light blue. The sun was rising. And the horizon was the most beautiful thing he had seen. Maybe that was all he loved: the sea and its call to him. But he wasn't sure. He only knew that the sea was untameable, and free, and no one could order it to do as they liked, and that was just how Jack saw himself. Untameable, free, and his own. He would ponder the mysteries of women and love later, when he actually had time and care and reason to do it.

-o-o-o-

Peter was running through the docks of dirty, stinking London with Tubby Ted waddling feet behind and James running beside him. Thomas was running with Tubby Ted, trying to push him forward. Markus ran far behind them, trying hard to keep up. Unfortunately, his _ass-mar_ (or that was how he said "asthma," but one can never really be too sure. He could have been trying to say "Ass Murder," but who would know?) would not allow him to run to the fullest degree. Prentiss, a newer boy to their "group," ran in front, scouting the area for a safe place to hide.

But there was no safe place to hide, for, you see, Mercer and his men were everywhere. The overpopulation problem in London was simply too big to take care of! And children were the new doctors' number one pick. And of course, Cutler Beckett wanted to become a Lord, finally. Being anything lower wouldn't help him with getting what he wanted: complete control over anything and everything in the world.

-o-o-o-

Will was the first to wake. He was anxious to continue in his training – perhaps, soon he would become a master, sooner than he hoped! An apprentice is one thing, but a master is another. But he knew it wouldn't happen, not when his master was a drunken pig.

He stood up and straightened his back, then cleaned his teeth with a fine powder. He grabbed a loaf of bread and carried it with him and he ate pieces of it as he walked downstairs to the forge.

There were no materials left. He would have to buy new ones. _Damnit_. He hated going to the marketplace and seeing the rich nobles spitting their richness in everyone else's faces, but it wasn't for him to decide what they did and it most certainly wasn't for him to say anything about it. He finished the small loaf of bread as he put on his jacket and walked outside, on the cobbled streets, warm from the hot Caribbean sun.

He examined the buckles on his shoes as he walked to the town square. The snakes engraved into the gold seemed to be alive, twisting, moaning, as he walked, the sun's glint setting off their movements –

"Oh, I really do apologize, I am so sorry!" Will quickly said as he looked at the girl he crashed into. "Wait. Victoria?"

"Will! It's very nice to see you," she said with a smile.

"Would you like to come into town with me?" Will asked kindly, and she of course accepted, and so the two of them walked together.

Little did Will know that Elizabeth was sitting in a carriage right next to them, waiting for her father to return with a few important documents. And, of course, she was not very happy to see this scene unfold in front of her.

-o-o-o-

Peter managed to sneak the boys into the hull of a ship for the time being. It would not be good enough, no sir, but the ship left in four days, and hopefully by nights they could save themselves from the evil, scary, strange man hiding in the bushes. He said their names, counting them, as they walked into the stairway that led below decks one-by-one. "Prentiss…James…Tubby Ted, there's a good chap… Thomas." _Where is Markus?_ He wondered. "Markus?"

Prentiss and James looked at each other, and Tubby Ted began to cry. "Shut up, you!" Prentiss whisper-yelled. "We don' want them knowing we're here! Shhh….shh shh shh."

Peter looked over. "Look, Markus isn't here. And as your leader, I promised I'd take care of you lot, which means I'm gonna have to find him and try my best-est to save him. D'you understand?" Peter and James responded with "Yes, sirs" and Tubby nodded in agreement with his plan. "Good. Now you lot be careful, and _don't_ let them hear you."

--

Peter retraced his steps. And near the lamppost, there was an unusual marking on the ground. And a pair of small footprints _stopped_. Peter followed the big footprints next to the small ones and reached a small, dirty building. He heard moans and screams coming out of each room.

One voice in particular caught his attention. "I am Doctor Cornelius, my little friend. What is your name?"

The other voice was crying. Mumbling something about "P-peter w-will. Peter w-will." Peter was standing next to the barred windows, which would explain why he could hear such things.

"Peter Will?"

"N-no," said the whimpering child. _Markus_, Peter realized. Markus was sobbing. Peter watched through the barred windows, thinking, at the same time, that he must be watching behind him.

"Well, as I said, I am Doctor Cornelius," said the older voice, a voice belonging to a hook-nosed, wrinkled little man with big green eyes. "And what I am going to do with you is study you. If you live through my experimentation –" at this Markus cried – screeched – in terror. "Now, none of that. Stop it." Doctor Cornelius whacked Markus with a cane until Markus's knees gave way and bled. "There. Let me ask you a question: have you ever been to the circus?"

Markus had no choice but to answer, this Peter could see by looking at Markus's face. "Once when mummy was still alive."

"_Once when mummy was still alive_," said Doctor Cornelius in a very rude mimic of Markus, whose face was lined with dirty, grimy tear streaks. "If you live through my experimentation, you can _be_ in the Circus."

"I can?" Markus asked quietly, wiping off the tear streaks. "Will they be nice to me?"

"Who ever said anything about nice?" asked Cornelius. "You probably won't have your arms, or legs, maybe even. I don't know about your eyes… You'll probably be part of the _freak_ show," he said sadistically. Markus exploded in tears. "I will be back. I must go talk to the _ringmaster_."

Peter waited for Cornelius to leave, then tried his hardest to start pushing the bars apart. They wouldn't budge. Markus heard Peter's grunting and looked up. "Peter!"

"Shh! Help me get in! I'm going to get you out!"

"They said – they said they were gonna kill me!"

"Cornelius said he isn't going to, that's what I heard," said Peter quietly, encouragingly. Then he heard a door open.

"WHO IS THIS?" Cornelius screamed. "GUARDS!" He yanked Markus off the window quite easily, as he screamed "PETER! PETER, HELP ME! PETER – PETER, DON"T LEAVE ME! PETER!"

"I'M SORRY!" Peter yelled as two guards closed in on him. "I CAN'T – I CAN'T STAY BEHIND, I HAVE TO BE THERE! WHO WILL BE THERE FOR TUBBY TED?" Peter began to cry silently as he jumped to the top of the window. "I WILL COME BACK FOR YOU, MARKUS, I PROMISE YOU THAT!"

"Who ever said that I'd allow you to keep your promise?" Cornelius sneered. Peter realized he held a knife. Then, in front of his very eyes, Cornelius stabbed Markus, straight through the heart, from his back. Markus's eyes grew wide with terror, then suddenly, they had no life in them.

Peter jumped off and back out, running, until he reached the docks. He sat on the shoreline. Then, very, very slowly, he began to cry.


	22. Developing a Taste for the Theatrical

**A/N:** _Yes! Getting somewhere here. I know the last chapter Jack was a little cheesy but I needed a bridge. Sorry :( I find myself updating after nearly four months and yet still I have only two reviews. Honestly, people, the more reviews we have, the more times Jack's life is saved. And each review counts a better plot twist so do help. By the way, yes, I did get the name for this chapter from a Dark Knight thing that extreme fans like myself know about :) hehe. Thank you so much! Okay, read, __**review**__, enjoy!_

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Developing a Taste for the Theatrical**

Night, and they were close.

Jack sat cross-legged on the poop deck with a book on hand. He actually found it quite interesting. It was a book about piracy, but the only sections he had read dealt with the famous pirates of old times, Morgan and Bartholomew, and an entry on his own father Teague. He had especially read the section about Teague, which was short and merry but very informative:

**Captain Edward Johnathon Teague**, _Pyrate Lorde of Madagascar_ –

Jack stopped. _Obviously this is outdated, which would explain why _I_ am not in this book. Aye, that is it._ He continued.

_Pyrate Lorde of Madagascar – this feared pirate, well known for his unique appearance that is shared in certain aspects by his son, Jack Sparrow –_

"Captain, _captain_ Jack Sparrow. Why don' they ever get it right?"

_Jack Sparrow, and his infamous raides on settlements in India, Africa, ye Mediterranean Sea, and as of late, ye Caribbean Sea, is rumoured to be the "heir" of the position of "Keeper of the Code" (see artycle entry). His moste infamous doings include the bombing of ye Ivory Coast, in which the Governor's treasurie was completely emptied and the Governor himselfe was kidnappede, only to be founde a month later lockede in a cell with pigs in the Pirate-infestede haven of Tortuga. A more detailede explanatione may be found in documents specifically pertaining to the Order of the Brethren of the Coast, also knowne as the Brethren Court._

Jack cracked his neck. _Done with bedtime reading_. He stood up, stretched, and yawn, ready to retire to his quarters, when as he took a step forward, he almost walked into Mercedes' back.

Instead of stepping forward, Mercedes fell onto her knees. Jack ran about in front of her. "Oh. Erm…" Mercedes stared at him blankly, then shrugged and looked down and touched her boot. "Mercedes, I am _deeply_ flattered that you're…erm… on your _knee_…s. But –"

"Jack, I'm fixing a buckle on my boot."

"Oh," said Jack, crinkling his nose. "Well –"

"Well what? Have you noticed it's been three nights since…" Her voice trailed off. _Since I told you_. "Since I said I would leave this ship and still it has been uneventful apart from the fact that Anamaria cannot help but to give me unduly looks of haughty arrogance?"

"Mercy, love, look. Think. So much has happened, if you look between the lines. Why, I am sure that right at this moment, all over the world many distressing damsels – or, rather, damsels in distress, or damsels at all – would enjoy being in my very company. Or even on a ship _with_ me. Even in the future, _way_ into the future, I would assume so."

"But you haven't still told me anything."

"Pardonnez-moi?"

"Think, Jack. Last time I was on your crew, it was for a fortnight, and it was on the _Pearl_. Now I see that we are, in fact, _not_ on the _Pearl_, but on some ship you chose to name _The Wandering Compass_. Now what am I to do but blink and stare and wonder, or hurt you to get information?"

Jack thought about it. "Aye, that worries me. Don't hurt me," he added. "Erm – you can hear. Do what you will. But I ask your assistance. You do owe me, do not forget. Aye me for what I can say is this: a debt must always be paid, savvy?"

"Yes," she said complacently. "But where do we begin?"

"Obviously beginning with information… about the opposition." Jack held up his book, which happened to be tearing apart. "He so happens to be listed in a small entry here." _Sadly these authors were misinformed. Hector Barbossa isn't worthy of anyone's time. At all._

Mercedes narrowed her eyes trying to find out who the "opposition" was. "The man who is _not_ on this ship, I take it? Or the _men_, really. Beginning with your 'First Mate.' Barbossa."

"He _was_ my first mate, love," said Jack quietly. "Hector and his mutinous crew and the bloody _Black Pearl_ somewhere in _my_ territory – you know, the Caribbean, which I alone may claim – so really they have been using two of _my_ possessions, one of which I sacrificed my soul for –"

Mercedes raised an eyebrow. "You sacrificed your soul?"

Jack cleared his throat. "Yes…erm… figuratively, that is… spiritually, ecumenically, whatever."

"Mm. Well you've sailed with Barbossa before, have you not?"

"A couple of years, love, but it is not a matter of who he _is_. More like, what his stand is right… now."

"CAPTAIN! LAND HO!"

Jack looked up. There was the large, gigantic fortress Jack had read about. _Shipwreck Island_. Inside would be the sparkling golden city of ships. "You still want to leave, or are you ready for an adventure?"

-o-o-o-

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder. Yes, her father was still in the shop. She made sure the coachman was not looking in her direction and slipped out of the carriage and ran in Will's direction. Her only aim was to get his attention before that other _girl_ could – or did.

As Will and Victoria turned the corner, chatting animatedly, Elizabeth reached them huffing, puffing, dirty, and grimy, and still looking very, very pretty. She was turning into a beautiful young woman at that time, at age fourteen. "Will!"

Will turned, taken aback. "Miss Swann –"

"Elizabeth," she said, smiling and exposing her straight white teeth.

"What are you doing here?" Will asked quietly. _Why are you endangering yourself? I can't let anything happen to you –_ "It isn't safe."

I'll be the judge of that, thank you," said Elizabeth icily. "And who is this?"

"Oh – erm – this is Victoria." Elizabeth looked downcast upon seeing that Will himself was more comfortable around Victoria than he was with _her_. _Oh, please don't look like that, Elizabeth I… I l-_ but he could not bring himself to think it. "Victoria Larson. Victoria, this is Miss Swann. She's the daughter of the governor."

Victoria's eyes sparkled as she curtsied. "Pleased to meet you, Miss."

"You look rather young. How old are you?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"Oh! Erm – fourteen."

"Oh," said Elizabeth. _So you really aren't that much younger than me…or Will._ "Will," she said suddenly. "You must help me."

"I would offer my sword at your hand immediately," said Will with sincerity. "What do you ask?"

Elizabeth stood close to him – so close even that their lips could touch, but they did not. Inside, her heart fluttered so much she was sure she was shaking and making a fool of herself. But so, too, was Will. "Will, help me to escape my boredom."

"How might I do that?"

"Will just –"

"ELIZABETH? ELIZABETH!" Voices rang out.

"Oh dear. Will, help me. Now I'm really –"

"Shh," said Will. "Come here." He pulled Elizabeth to his side and continued, "We must give the impression you were forced out, and that I along with our friend Victoria found you."

"Thank you, Will."


	23. The Order of the Brethren

**A/N**_**:**__ Hello! Yes, I know I'm updating very slowly. Actually I was going to submit weeks ago but it wouldn't let me. Hmmm… plus I had finals. And I JUST finished them! YAAAAY! *celebrates* Graahh! I'm having loads of fun writing this, it's getting to a VERY important plot section that's coming up here, so if you're one of those enjoying the story, pay very close attention to details :) On the other hand, I can never tell what you think about my story, whether it's good, or if it sucks, or whatever. Which again forces me to beg you to review chapters. Please, please, pleeeease review chapters. It's really discouraging to see that you don't get reviews when you know you got them by the hour beforehand. I understand it's been a few months since I began to frequent my updates, I really do, but it is still really frustrating and therefore I ask you to put in some more effort to at the very least comment and let me know :) In fact I am actually delving deeper into Jack right now so it's a lot less like a teenager wrote the story, and more like an actual experience-journal or something-or-other that people might find more appealing. Okay, that was rather long, so I'll leave you to read._

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**The Order of the Brethren**

The tub was empty save for bath salts sprinkled on the bottom as hot water was slowly added to it. All the maids, save for Estrella and Isabella, and all the menservants left Elizabeth's bathroom. "Come, Miss Swann," said Estrella quietly. Elizabeth slowly walked into the bathroom, fixated on her earlier scuffles. "You know, I am very pleased that I may work in a household that prides itself on its hygiene. You are the first family I have served that washes every day."

Elizabeth nodded as she undressed and stepped into the tub. "Do you not find it disgusting, the way people live these days? Why, it's no wonder they are always sick." But she was still vexed, and it was easily seen. Estrella and Isabella looked at one another, and back at Elizabeth. "What?"

"You look perplexed, dear," said Isabella, pouring some of the water on Elizabeth's soft golden curls. "Whatever is the matter?"

"This _day_ is the matter. It has been _terrible_."

"Well, certainly your father was a little upset, but not at you, Miss Swann. It was certainly nothing," said Estrella.

"No, it wasn't. But I was a fool earlier."

"What could you possibly mean? That Will Turner said he called you out for a chat," said Estrella with a wink. "I wonder what _that_ could mean."

Elizabeth snorted. "Yes, and during that chat," she said, accepting the white lie Will had chosen to use, "I was stupid. 'Oh Will, save me from my boredom!' Why, he must think me to be a desperate little girl!"

"I highly doubt that," said Isabella, scrubbing Elizabeth's back.

"As do I," said Estrella. "Either he will forget, but that is the case that he doesn't care about you, or if he loves you, he will cling onto that memory forever in hopes that you meant what you said."

"Will he really? I do hope so," Elizabeth said with a soft smile.

"Well," said Isabella, "so far I have only seen him look at you as if he has seen an angel. Surely he loves you."

"Yes, I too agree with that," said Estrella.

Elizabeth sank further into her tub and smiled. "Oh, Estrella, Isabella, you are the best friends I could have. Thank you."

"We _are_ quite experienced, Miss Swann."

-o-o-o-

The red doors were forcibly pushed open. This was the grandest tavern in the world of Pirates, yessir, it had all the wenches one could ever come close to _dreaming_ of, several assortments of rum (who ever knew there were so many?), and, of course, a place reserved specifically for Pirate Lords.

No one knew what the hell happened in there, but Jack was going to test it out. This was the second time he had been here. Last time he was here, he remembered, he was but a boy. With his mother, and Grandmaman, and…. And Teague.

"Jack, where are you going?"

"'S it look to you like you ought to know?"

"Jack, are you just going to abandon me with the whores and whatnot?"

"Let me think about it," Jack stopped. "Yeah."

"Jack, I'll murder in _your_ name."

"Well that hardly bothers me. I'll just add to me legend."

"The other Pirate Lords. Like that fat little Indian one."

"He's scary peaceful. No point killing him."

"Fine. I'll make him a eunuch."

"If you can do all this damn fine then can't you fare just an hour – or two… or three… or four – just to let me in peace in that fine establishment?"

"Because I don't want to be alone. This place is legend but only _you_ have ever been here… being a legend yourself."

"Mercedes, you do me little justice," Jack said with a grin. "Alas, I cannot help you inside this little…area. No guards, nothing, none at all allowed, and I'm afraid I can't pass you off as anything else."

Before she could argue the point, Jack pushed himself in (having to hold his piece of eight to the two black men who held him, ready to beat him) through the curtains and into the dark area.

"Who are _you_, boy?" an African man asked him. He drew out his dagger. "This place is reserved for Pirate Lords."

"And yet here I stand before you. Why do you think _that_ is?"

"How did you get in?" asked one Jack had seen in his book. Eduardo Villanueva.

"Oh, let's see, I beat the guards, saved a damsel in distress, and, oh, what's this?" He touched his piece of eight. "Ah. A Piece. Of Eight. You ought to know about this, gentlemen."

"I do," said the African man.

"Pray tell, what is your name?" Jack asked, less than interested.

"Gentleman Jocard, of – wait. I know you," he added. Jack put on a face. _Yes, I remember you too_.

"Yes, yes, all that is _very_ well, now where is the food I have so lacked in the past few days? I daresay, it's quite upsetting to have an empty stomach. Although the rum has most certainly taken care of… many… of the issues."

"You have name not told us," said a wisened old voice from in the darkness. Mistress Ching. Her English was _terrible_, and she was blind. Jack wondered how on earth a woman like her got to be in the Brethren.

"Ah, young gentlemen, and ripe old lady, my name is one that is now synonymous with yours, and you are to keep that in mind. Captain Jack Sparrow, son of Captain Edward Johnathon Teague, at your service, gents. Now, Pirate Lord of the Caribbean Sea. Take _that_."

And Jack sat.

**A/N:**___Sorry this is so short! I have no time. I must eat and celebrate finals. I swear I will update within the next two days :P_


	24. Rewrite!

Hey guys,

I'm starting this fanfiction over… may it rest forever in our memories *sniffs and sobs* It'll be under the same name ;) Since I'm just editing previous chapters, the first few should be up in no time.

Love,

Me ;)


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